Neighbours
by Leliha
Summary: Spinner's End, seven years after the war. Having survived Nagini's attack Snape leads the life of a recluse. Until the day he meets Nathan, his neighbour's son… SS/OCs
1. Chapter 1

_The usual disclaimers apply._

**Chapter One**

The net curtain in front of the living-room window was limp and yellowing, saturated with dust and spotted with flyspeck. Very carefully Severus Snape pushed its frayed edge a fracture of an inch to the left and bent forward, squinting, to peer through the accumulated grime of years of neglect on the window pane. The street was quiet, there was no through traffic here and in this weather no one of his dog-walking and gossip-indulging neighbours wanted to be outside, let alone stop for a chat. He could hear the muffled sobs of the small, dark haired boy quite clearly. The child was standing on the doorstep of the next house in the cold December rain without a jacket. His hair was plastered to his skull and his school jumper was soaked through.

Snape sighed impatiently. For seven years he had ignored the world outside his isolated, private little universe, which consisted of the small terraced house he had inherited after his father's death, the Muggel supermarket he visited for supplies and the occasional trip to Diagon Alley whenever he had to do business at Gringott's or needed potion ingredients that could not be collected in the stretch of waste land at the end of the street where the mill had once been, grown in the flowerpots in his own back yard or bought by owl mail order. He ignored his neighbours; he had ignored the invasion of the builders' vans and the noise and the dirt the refurbishment of the other houses had brought to the street, he had ignored the sleek cars and the comings and goings of the estate agents showing the modernized houses to potential buyers, he had ignored the removal vans and the arrival of his new neighbours, most of them twenty-something middle class couples getting their feet on the first rung of the property ladder. And most specifically he had ignored his next-door neighbours, a single mother and her young son. He had taken great care to stay invisible, to avoid all contact. So far he had succeeded. They probably wondered if he existed at all.

And now this. The little boy had been standing in front of the door for half an hour. It seemed as if the door was locked and his mother wasn't at home. Most probably at work or on her way home from work at this time of day. The boy apparently didn't have a key. Why? Had he forgotten it? Lost it? And why didn't he wear a jacket? It was December and too cold to go outside in nothing but a grey school jumper. The boy was small and thin. He would catch a cold in this weather. Where was his mother? Why did she not look after her son properly? And why was he, Severus Snape, not able to simply ignore the boy and continue reading the article on the recently discovered fat burning properties of the _ventriculus-potion_ in peace? What kept him at the window, what made him behave like a nosy spinster? Damn it!

With an angry snarl, Snape let go of the curtain. For a moment he remained standing in front of the window, hesitating. Then he released a deep and noisy breath, tossed the potions magazine he had been holding in his free hand on the rickety coffee table and went to his own front door. He donned an ancient pea jacket that had once belonged to his father, fished a large, black umbrella from an old chest that contained a variety of things, from Wellington boots to moth-eaten scarves and gloves, grabbed his cane and opened the door. The boy seemed to have noticed the movement; he looked up warily and did some tentative steps forward. Snape stepped outside and pulled the door shut. Opening the umbrella he made his slow and awkward way towards the next house. The boy froze and then backed away until he reached his own front door. He pressed his back to the door as if this would enable him to melt through it. With eyes wide with apprehension he stared at the strange man towering in front of him.

"What are you doing out here in the rain?" Snape demanded, sounding gruffer than he had intended.

The boy blinked, sniffled and muttered something about 'Mum' and 'school'. Snape didn't bother to ask for more coherent information.

"Come with me," he snapped impatiently. "You can wait for your mother in my house."

The boy pressed his lips together and shook his head.

Snape stared at him in consternation.

"What do you mean, boy? Don't you want to get out of the cold and the rain?"

"My Mum always says I am not to go anywhere with strangers." The boy tried very hard to keep his voice steady. "She says there are many bad men around, criminals who..."

"Don't be silly, boy, I'm not… a… criminal, I live next door."

The boy shook his head vigorously and clenched his fists.

"I don't know you, do I?" he said defiantly, his grey eyes firmly locked with the strange man's black ones.

Snape let out an angry breath. He wanted to tell the boy to go to hell. He wanted to go back to his armchair next to the fire in his living room, back to his article, his studies, his experiments. But he couldn't tear himself away from the shivering boy, who, after all, merely obeyed his mother's advice. There was something about this boy, something Snape couldn't put a name to, which touched him and prevented him from turning his back and stomping away.

"Hm. Right. Well."

He shrugged out of his jacket and held it out for the boy.

"If you don't come with me I'll wait here with you. Put that on."

The boy swallowed, doubt in his eyes. Snape thrust the jacket towards him. At last the boy reluctantly accepted it and put it on. It went down almost to his ankles.

"Come." Snape motioned towards the doorstep. Slowly and with a painful groan he lowered himself, arranging his bad leg so that it wouldn't hurt too much. He patted the concrete step next to himself.

"Sit."

As the boy complied, Snape surreptitiously eased his wand from the sleeve of his jumper and cast a warming and a drying spell. Then the two of them huddled under the big black umbrella, their awkward silence underscored by the staccato rhythm of the raindrops.

"What's your name, Mister?" the boy broke the silence at last, casting a timid, sidelong glance at his strange companion.

"Snape, Severus Snape."

"I'm Nathan McGregor."

Snape answered with a vague growl, shifting his weight to find a more comfortable position, hoping the boy would shut up or his mother would come eventually.

"Your leg…does it hurt?"

"My leg? It's…" none of your business, he wanted to say. But when he shot the boy a quick glance he noticed genuine compassion in his eyes and simply shrugged.

The boy frowned thoughtfully, biting his knuckle.

"Did you fight in the war, Mister? Because there was an old man at our school telling us about the war and how he fought the Nazis…"

Snape had almost started answering in the affirmative when he realized which war the insufferable boy had in mind. Old man indeed! He certainly didn't look that old."

"No, not in that war."

"Another war? Mum says there are still wars in far away countries, in Africa and Asia. Did you fight in another country?"

Merlin, the child was a nosy little prat! Snape grunted an incomprehensible answer he hoped would suffice to shut the boy up and decided that the only means of preventing the child from asking awkward questions was to start an interrogation himself.

"Where's your mother?"

"I don't know. She promised to collect me from school today, but sometimes she has to stay at work later if there's an emergency. She's a nurse, you know."

"Doesn't she phone you when she's late?"

"Actually, she couldn't… my mobile…"

"Is it broken?"

"No… it's… gone."

"Gone? Have you lost it?"

"No… three boys … when Mum didn't come I went home on my own and…. three boys… they… I … was mugged."

"Boys from your school?" Snape asked, the shadows of painfully repressed childhood memories threatening to rise to the surface of his mind.

"I … don't think so … but … I don't know. I didn't see their faces. They had hoodies and baseball caps…"

"Did they take your jacket as well?"

"Yes, Mum will be angry, it was new."

"Has this happened before?"

The boy nodded and hung his head in shame. Hastily he wiped away the tears with the sleeve of Snape's jacket.

"They… they think they can do it, because I'm small and not very strong and…"

A car stopped in front of the house. A woman jumped out.

"Nat! O thank God you're there."

She froze, taking in the scene in front of her. Snape could see the reaction to his personal appearance in her narrowed eyes and acknowledged it with wry little grimace.

"Excuse me, but …"

Nathan jumped to his feet, but remained standing on the doorstep, fidgeting nervously. Snape struggled to his feet, too, and stepped forward.

"I'm Severus Snape. I live next door. I saw your son in the rain and…"

A quick flicker of surprise in the woman's face, then she turned to the boy.

"What happened to your jacket, Nathan?"

The boy hung his head.

His mother sighed. Very briefly her eyes met Snape's and he could see pain and sorrow in them. Then she turned towards her son again.

"The traffic was awful. I tried your mobile, but you had it switched off…"

Nathan shook his head; tears were running down his face again.

"What is it, Nat? What's wrong?"

"He was mugged. They took his jacket and his mobile", Snape said quietly.

"… and my money", Nathan added in a small voice.

His mother closed her eyes and turned her head away, her face contorted in a grimace of despair. For a moment it looked as if she was going to cry, too. But when she opened her eyes, she was in control again.

"Well, you'd better come in", she said briskly, fumbling for her keys in her handbag.

"I'd better be on my way", Snape said.

"Oh no, Mr Snape. Do come with us. Nathan's still wearing your jacket, I'm sure you'll want it back. And I haven't said 'thank you' properly. Come in, Mr Snape, I'll make us a cup of tea, I'm sure you'll want one after sitting outside in this weather."

Why did he accept her offer? He didn't know. Something simply made him do it, some unknown power made him close his umbrella and follow Nathan and his mother into the house.

* * *

_AN: So here I go again, working on an idea that came up some weeks ago and has been occupying my imagination ever since. I hope you'll like it and won't mind long intervals between updates. I'm very busy at the moment._


	2. Chapter 2

_The usual disclaimers apply._

**Chapter 2**

Like in his own house, the front door had originally opened directly into the living room, but here, in the course of refurbishment, a small hall-like area had been created by means of an additional glass brick wall and a glass door. Nathan's mother took off her coat and put it on the coat rack. Then she helped her son get out of Snape's jacket and reached for another coat hanger, but paused in mid-movement. Frowning, she touched Nathan's hair and shoulder.

"How long have you been sitting out there?" she asked curiously.

"Not very long," Snape replied cautiously, with an uneasy premonition of what was to come, "perhaps… fifteen minutes."

Shaking her head, Nathan's mother laughed in disbelief.

"But he's absolutely dry! Nat, I understand that you had already walked home in the rain, so you should still be soaked or at least damp."

Nathan felt the sleeve of his jumper, stared at his mother and shrugged while Snape was studying the design of the glass bricks with fierce intensity. Damn. His little drying charm… he should have thought of this… did the woman have to be so perceiving…well, there was nothing for it now but to activate the former spy's talents and find a plausible excuse…

Nathan's mother still looked from him to Nathan and back again, expecting some explanation.

"Well, yes, you see… It's one of those old jackets, it belonged to my father and is of excellent quality. They don't make them like this anymore. The way the material absorbs moisture is absolutely incredible …"

"Oh, really? How very useful."

She didn't sound convinced, eying the jacket critically, rubbing the material between thumb and forefinger. But then she closed the subject with a deep sigh.

"Well, be that as it may, Nat, go upstairs and change. I'll make some hot chocolate for you."

Nathan shouldered his school bag, went through the living room and ran up the stairs. His mother and Snape followed more slowly.

"Make yourself at home, Mr. Snape", the woman gestured towards the sofa. "I'm Lisa McGregor, by the way. Tea'll be ready in a minute."

With this she vanished into the kitchen.

Snape remained standing, looking around the room. It was so unlike his own living room next door that it was hard to believe that basically the houses were identical. The floor boards had been stripped and treated with honey-coloured varnish. In front of the fireplace a small sofa and two comfortable-looking armchairs with an oval pine coffee table between them were standing on an island created by a rug patterned in various shades of red. There were matching cushions on the sofa and matching curtains at the window. In the corner there was a glass fronted cabinet and the opposite wall was taken up by bookshelves, a small TV set and a stereo. It was a comfortable, warm and friendly room, clean and tidy; an empty mug and a half eaten bag of sweets on the coffee table, an open paperback lying face down on the sofa's armrest the only signs of disarray. Snape suddenly became very much aware of his own appearance: His long, greasy, unkempt hair, the two days' worth of stubble in his face, the worn out, frayed clothes he usually wore in the Muggle world. They were relics from his father's wardrobe, a man who, although of similar height, had been of a much sturdier built and the clothes hung on Severus' thin frame, making him look like a scarecrow. He felt painfully out place.

"I really should be going", he called in the direction of the kitchen door.

"Oh no, Mr Snape, wait, tea's ready", came the answer and Lisa McGregor appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray. "Nat, don't forget your hot chocolate!" she called upstairs and immediately her son came clattering down the stairs; he had changed into jeans and a blue hoodie.

His mother put the tray on the coffee table and after some hesitation Snape lowered himself into one of the armchairs, propping his cane against the armrest, while Nathan took the other one and his mother sank into a corner of the sofa. Mrs McGregor passed them their mugs and opened a tin of biscuits.

Cradling her mug in her hands she looked at Snape and smiled.

"Well, Mr Snape, I'm so glad that we've met at last. I always thought it odd, you know, our living next door for more than six months and not knowing what the person in the other house looked like. Sometimes I was on the point of knocking at your door, introducing myself, but then I…well…."

Snape looked up from his mug and commented with a tiny twitch of his lips.

"Do you know that you are a very mysterious man, that there are many rumours about you? And I'm glad to see that you are not at all like what people round here say you are."

He raised an enquiring eyebrow, said nothing. She laughed nervously.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm babbling, but…"

"Yes?" Merlin, he could very well imagine what people thought about him, there was absolutely no need to hear it from this woman. What on earth had made him encourage her? He should get up and go home.

"Most people around here don't know you, most of them have never seen you, so there's speculation going on, lots of tongue-wagging, I'm afraid, about who lives in this old house at the end of the terrace. Some doubt that you exist at all; they think you are some phantom haunting the neighbourhood."

"Indeed?"

"Yes, and others…they even think you are… well, it's only stupid gossip, you know… they say that… you are a bit of a weirdo… or some kind of … monster. Which is rubbish, of course, you've helped Nat today and I can see you're…"

He raised a hand, stopping her.

"Madam, don't jump to conclusions. You've known me for… what? twenty minutes? Besides, I have worked very hard for my reputation, I don't want it ruined."

His voice was impassive. He looked at her, his features composed in the unreadable mask that had become second nature to him. For a long moment their eyes locked. She was the first to break the contact, laughing away her embarrassment.

"Oh well, in this case I won't say anything, of course. You can rely on me, Mr. Snape, I won't reveal your secret, mum's the word."

He shrugged non-committally, picking up his mug. For the sake of politeness he would drink his tea and then take his leave. From now on he would take extra care to avoid Lisa McGregor and her son, he for his part still wasn't in the least interested in being acquainted with his neighbours. He was still marvelling at his actions this afternoon, they were inexplicable and, unfortunately, they couldn't be undone; there was, however, no need to repeat them.

Concentrating very hard, willing his hands to keep from shaking too badly and inwardly cursing the snake's venom once again for having wrought havoc with his body and leaving him in such a wretched state, he brought the mug to his lips and swallowed a mouthful of tea. He grimaced. It was still too hot. Nathan's mother sighed, embarking on a new topic.

"I hoped that the problems would stop at the new school, but somehow Nat seems to attract the attention of those bullies in a special way. He's a bit on the small side for his age, he's a bookish type, not good at sports and games and therefore not very popular among the pupils… and sometimes strange things happen to him, even in the lessons, a fact which doesn't endear him to the teachers either."

She paused.

"Strange things?" Snape asked, more from lack of a suitable reply than out of curiosity.

"Yes, really strange, weird things, like books flying out of other pupils' hands through the class room towards him, other pupils suffering electric shocks when they touch him…"

Snape watched the boy who had coloured slightly and was bent over his hot chocolate mug, seemingly absorbed in stirring his drink. Strange things? He looked at the boy more closely, the seed of an extremely fantastic idea beginning to germinate at the back of his mind. Strange things? Flying books? Electric shocks? Could it be? Here in Spinner's End? In this out-and-out Muggle neighbourhood? Where apart from himself and a few infamous exceptions no wizard had ever set foot in? In the house next to his, refurbished, clean and tidy, with a bathroom, an electric fire and all the mod cons? He felt his throat go dry with excitement and took another mouthful of tea. Merlin's straggling beard, could it really be? On the other hand… it didn't concern him at all, did it? He had turned his back on the wizarding world seven years ago, why should he bother? It was none of his business if this boy happened to be a wizard, was it?

Snape gritted his teeth and wrapped his fingers around the mug in a vice-like grip.

No! He didn't want to care, he didn't want to be bothered… he didn't, oh no, he didn't… and yet… he felt something inside him stir, the seed had developed into a straggling plant, wrapping its tendrils around his mind, and he knew he would have to find out, he simply wouldn't be able to rest until he knew. Slowly he reached out and touched Nathan's arm with a shaking hand.

"Strange things?"

The boy looked up, his eyes filling with tears again.

"They were my books, the others had taken them from my bag. And I don't like being prodded in the back by Kevin Monk during Maths. But I didn't do anything. I never do. I can't help it, can I? It just happens", he whispered. "I don't know…"

Snape nodded understandingly. _He_ did know. He had felt it the moment his fingers had made contact with Nathan's skin. The light tingle of magic so typical of young wizards who still could not use wands and control their magic. Everyone could feel it, but only another wizard would understand its significance. So it seemed as if Nathan was a wizard indeed. To confirm this surmise some research would have to be done, more facts, more information was required. And if he was right…then what? Tell the boy? Inform Nathan's mother? She probably would be able to understand her son's problems at school better and deal with them more easily if she knew about his special abilities… but… would she believe him? Would it come as a shock? Would she even listen to him? And there was the Statute of Secrecy… usually an awful lot of red tape was involved before Muggles were allowed to learn about the wizarding world… But on the other hand…why should he get involved in the first place? Just because he lived next door? He didn't know these people. Seven years ago he had vowed never to let himself be drawn into other people's lives and problems... And yet, the boy obviously needed help. If he was left alone with his magic, with a power he didn't know about and couldn't handle he might become a danger to himself and to others. The boy needed help…

"… rugby ball exploded…"

He realized that he had missed the last seconds of the conversation; however, he didn't care. He had more pressing matters on his mind.

"How old are you?" he asked Nathan.

The boy and his mother looked at him in surprise at the non sequitur.

"Nine and half."

Then the Hogwarts letter would be more than a year away. More than a year… weeks upon weeks of facing the bullies at school, of wondering about flying books, electric shocks and exploding rugby balls…His eyes registered the traces of the tears on the boy's cheeks and he remembered the pain in Lisa McGregor's eyes and realized he couldn't just ignore them, he wouldn't find peace before he had at least verified his surmise. He emptied his mug and put it down on the table.

"I have to go", he stated abruptly, regardless of how rude he sounded. But he couldn't be bothered with politeness now, he needed to be alone, he needed to think, to decide, and then, perhaps, he needed to look for confirmation, he needed to contact the authorities… Hogwarts… He raised himself from the sofa. Lisa McGregor did the same, disguising the quizzical look she gave him with a bright smile.

"See you around, Mr. Snape, and thank you very much for helping Nat."

He nodded non-committally. "Thank you for the tea."

A look from his mother made Nathan get up, too. He extended his hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Snape."

Snape took the small hand in his large one, holding it a bit longer than necessary, feeling the soft tingle of magic.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks for all the reviews; they are very much appreciated even if I don't get around to answering them._

_Leliha_

_The usual disclaimers apply._

**Chapter Three**

He opened his own front door, shook out his umbrella, dumped his jacket on the hook behind the door and stepped into the middle of the living room. The gloom and dreariness of the place enveloped him like a heavy, wet, smelly cloak. The discoloured wallpaper, the faded, stained carpet, the sagging sofa, covered with stacks of old newspapers and a pile of shirts and underwear awaiting ironing and folding; his favourite armchair next to the fire place, threadbare and belching forth stuffing; the musty smell, a mixture of dust, damp, extra strong pain potion, yesterday's dinner and old paper. The room, like he himself, bore evidence of long years of neglect, of a shameful lack of care. He limped over to the fireplace. It was cold, the fire had died during his absence. Snape stood in front of it, staring at the blackish grey ash in the grate with unseeing eyes. Sighing wearily he raked his hair back with a shaking hand. The encounter with Nathan McGregor and his mother had deeply unsettled him. A young wizard living next door. It disturbed the equanimity he had forced himself to acquire during the last years, it interfered with the life he had chosen, with his carefully constructed existence, his solitude, his self-imposed exile from the wizarding world. Was it coincidence? Was it fate? What did it mean for him? Dropping his cane he put his arms on the mantelpiece and rested his forehead against them. For a long time he remained like this, trying to come to terms with the turmoil in his head.

When the drop in the room's temperature made him shiver he stood back and busied himself lighting the fire again, slowly, by hand, the Muggle way. Then he stood in front of it, waiting to get warm, staring into the flames, listening to the debate inside his head.

"Damn it!" he finally shouted, hitting the mantle with his fist. Quickly he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the fireplace – and hesitated. This was the first step that could change the course of the rest of his life. Nonsense, he thought. He only wanted to verify his surmise, nothing else. Taking action wasn't a necessary consequence. He could always stop, turn back and let things take their course. Staring at the flames, he tightened his grip on the wand. Underscoring his decision with a deep breath he activated the connection with the general floo network with a complicated wand movement. He had not used it for years and it took some time for the characteristic flicker of the flames to establish. Then he picked up a small porcelain jar, opened the lid and sniffed at the contents suspiciously. Finding them in good order, he lowered himself to his knees in front of the fire. Throwing a pinch of the powder into the flames he shouted. "Hogwarts, headmistress's office."

Minerva McGonagall jumped when she heard the voice and saw the flames in her fireplace turn green. When she recognized the face sitting among the logs her hand went to her mouth in agitation.

"Severus", she exclaimed, pushing back her chair and getting to her feet.

"Minerva. I need a word. Do you have a minute now?"

The witch stared at his face, whose gauntness and sharp angles were highlighted by the shadows of the dancing flames, not knowing if she should be worried or angry about his descending on her like this, without an apology, out of the blue, after seven long years of silence. Quickly she walked to the fireplace and peered into the flames.

"What's the matter, Severus?"

"I'd rather tell you in private. I don't trust the floo calls."

"Very well, Severus, come through, then."

The face vanished and seconds later the complete figure of the wizard stepped out of the flames, brushing ash from the sleeves of his jumper.

The headmistress of Hogwarts watched him with a mixture of shock, pity, and disapproval. He had aged considerably in the past seven years, but he had not aged well. His pale face was deeply lined, his gait was more awkward, his shoulders more stooped, his limp more pronounced than seven years before. The only thing which had not changed was his hair, it was as bad as it had been and still jet black. His attire and general lack of care, however, made her wince inwardly. During his time as a teacher his robes had always been well-tailored and immaculate. The clothes he was wearing now … and the stubble on his chin… Merlin, he looked like a vagrant!

"Good evening, Severus," she greeted him with wary politeness. And when he didn't respond, she continued more urgently, "What is wrong, Severus? Forgive my saying so, but you look awful."

He replied with a scowl. "Good evening, Minerva. And my looks are none of your concern."

Squaring her shoulders, her body tensing with anger, she scowled back.

"Oh, excuse me, but they are, Severus, they are."

She fixed him with her angry stare, noticing with grim satisfaction that he lowered his eyes, colouring slightly. Theirs had always been a special relationship, determined by mutual respect and – although never openly admitted or shown – sympathy. It had been extremely hard for her to accept him as Dumbledore's murderer or Voldemort's lackey. After learning about the content of the memories he had presented to Harry Potter she had been the one to venture to the Shrieking Shack as soon as possible to bring back his body. She had, however, not found the lifeless corpse she had expected, but, to her unspeakable, joyful relief, an unconscious man who was still, if only just, alive and breathing. And then she had mobilized all the healing powers the wizarding world had to offer in order to save his life and patch him up again. She had insisted on him staying in the Infirmary at Hogwarts with her being able to watch over him instead of permitting the Aurors to cart him off to St. Mungo's and into the clutches of the Ministry. She had fought for his exoneration before the Wizengamot when he had been tried and finally pronounced 'not guilty' in absentia four weeks later. Her delight about this sentence, however, had been short-lived. When she had talked first to the officials of the Ministry's Department of Magical Education and then to the Minister himself it had become clear that there would be no chance for him to find employment in the wizarding world. He had, after all, been a Death Eater and had committed murder. Intend on helping the man who had still been too weak to understand what was going on around him or to realize that his body would never completely recover from the aftereffects of the snake's vicious poison she had bombarded the Ministry with a host of owls carrying her letters on his behalf, demanding the payment of a proper pension which would enable him to retire. It had finally been granted grudgingly. He had accepted the news as he had accepted the ones about the permanent damage to his body, emotionlessly and without comment. Six months later, when he had been released from the hospital wing and declared well enough to look after himself he had packed his belongings and, after the most awkward of thank-yous and the briefest of good-byes, had left Hogwarts immediately, withdrawing from the wizarding world almost completely. Since then she had never seen him again. It could only be a matter of utmost importance that brought him to her fireplace today. With a flick of her wand she made two comfortable armchairs scoot closer to the fire.

"Sit down, Severus, and tell me why you're here. Would you like a cup of tea? Or something stronger? I have an excellent Firewhisky from Islay..."

"No, no, thank you, no tea", he said, lowering himself into the armchair, "and allow me remind you that my physical condition doesn't permit the consumption of Firewhisky."

He paused, frowning, his eyes on the hands he had clasped in his lap, as if considering what would be the best way to begin. She watched him, holding her breath, apprehensively waiting for what was to come.

"Do they still inform you in advance about the next two generations of young wizards due to come to Hogwarts?" The words came out slowly, reluctantly, while his thumb and forefinger were busy working a loose thread on the cuff of his shirt.

Having expected some imminent threat to himself, to Hogwarts or the wizarding world in general she almost laughed with relief. Exhaling softly, she raised her eyebrows and looked at him with mild curiosity.

"Yes, of course, Severus. Nothing has changed there. And, as you know, we monitor these children discreetly to find out if they are really fit for a magical education. Why, Severus? What is the reason for this sudden interest of yours?"

He cleared his throat.

"In the house next to mine… there's a boy, he lives with his mother… I think he is a wizard."

Minerva looked at him quizzically.

"In the house next to yours? How very extraordinary! Then he's Muggle born, isn't he? What's his name?"

"Nathan McGregor."

The old witch pointed her wand at a large filing cabinet in the corner. One of its drawers opened and a roll of parchment zoomed towards them and landed in her lap. Glancing at Severus, who was sitting very still, his body very erect, very tense, his hands clenched around the handle of his cane, she opened it.

"Nathan McGregor, oh yes, here it is, Spinner's End, but he only moved there about six months ago from another part of the town. Griselda Gnatbat, our new Charms teacher, who is monitoring him, has been to the new address just once and found everything in order…" she paused, looking at the window, where the reflection of the light from the candles and the fireplace in the diamond panes created a kaleidoscope of orange and yellow against the backdrop of the darkness outside.

"Griselda has no idea whatsoever that you live next door, of course. It seems as if she didn't even notice your wards… you have put up wards, haven't you? Yes, of course. Well, she's still very young and inexperienced, it's her first year as a teacher. She went to school in Beauxbatons and studied in Paris and has no idea what life during Voldemort's reign was like…" again she paused and with a weary movement removed her spectacles and massaged the bridge of her nose.

"In my opinion she wasn't the best candidate for the job, but as Basil Bolder, the head of the Ministry's education department strongly supported her, the Board decided in her favour... oh, don't look at me like this, Severus," she cried, putting her glasses back on and staring at him angrily, "Believe me, sometimes I wish I could return to the peaceful job of just teaching Transfiguration. The older I get the more I hate the paperwork and the constant battles with the Ministry over funds and human resources…."

He shrugged apologetically and she went back to studying the parchment.

"Yes, Nathan. His magic is very strong, his father comes from wizarding stock, but the magic seems to have skipped a few generations."

Snape stared into the flames, his face expressionless once more.

"You monitor these children, but you never think of providing any support."

"Oh, well, Severus, as it happens most of them are perfectly alright, they don't need any support. And you also know that we deliver the Hogwarts letters for the Muggle-borns in person so that we can discuss everything with their families…"

"This is too late. Nathan has problems at school, he is bullied, his mother is worried."

"So? Do you intend to apply to the Ministry for a special permission and inform her about Nathan's situation? Do you intend to take over responsibility for the care of his magic until he comes to Hogwarts?"

"I? Why, in Merlin's name, should I do this?"

"Because if you did, there would be no need of Griselda monitoring him any longer. She could concentrate on preparing her lessons, which, Merlin knows, would benefit from a bit of extra work. And you, a powerful, highly skilled wizard, living next door, would be much better suited to watch over the boy, to act as a mentor for him. Personally I think that would be the best solution in this case, but…" noticing the scowl of refusal on his face deepen, she shook her head and sighed, "knowing you, Severus, I'm well aware of the fact that…"

"I'm not bloody likely to do anything like that", he snarled. "And you're perfectly correct in your assumptions. Forget it."

"Then why did you come here, Severus?"

"Curiosity. What else? I wanted to find out if I was right in surmising that he's a wizard."

"Curiosity. I see", she replied, sounding highly unconvinced.

He leaned forward, challenging her with his intense black eyes.

"You don't believe me? What do you think is the reason for my coming?"

"I must admit I was under the impression that you cared for the boy and that his situation touched you somehow."

"Nothing touches me anymore, as you very well know."

He stared at her belligerently.

Minerva McGonagall met his eyes with a sad shake of her head. She sighed.

"Well, Severus, if you say so."

The moment of silence that followed was full of unspoken words. In the end Snape gathered his cane and raised himself from his armchair.

"Very well, then, I won't keep you from your duties any longer. Thank you for your help."

"You're welcome, Severus", the witch replied, "very welcome," and got up, too. He was already on his way to the fire place.

"What's Nathan's mother like, Severus?" she asked suddenly, making him turn back and stare at her in surprise.

"His mother?"

Minerva nodded encouragingly.

He shrugged.

"Well,… I don't know. She's… just a woman…"

"Really?"

He snorted. "I've only met her once. I don't remember anything remarkable about her. She wears spectacles, I think."

Minerva frowned, sighing softly.

"You're a hopeless case, Severus."

He shrugged.

"Then just leave me alone, Minerva. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Severus", she answered sadly, as he vanished in a swirl of green flames.


	4. Chapter 4

_The usual disclaimers apply_

**Chapter four**

Snape took care not to run into Nathan and his mother during the next weeks. Sometimes he watched them from behind his living-room curtains. Christmas came and went. They had sent him a Christmas card which he had opened and glanced at briefly, before putting it face down on the mantle, on top of the only other card he had received, the inescapable one from Minerva. He saw mother and son put bags into the boot of the car on Christmas Eve and then they were away for the holidays, returning on January 1st. As they unloaded the car, the boy stopped, two carrier bags full of what seemed to be presents in his hands, looked at Snape's house, saying something to his mother, who followed his gaze and replied with a shrug. So they were talking about him. Well, whatever, they were welcome, he didn't care. Fortunately they weren't foolish enough to come knocking at his front door intending to wish him a Happy New Year. Good.

During the following weeks there were no more incidents, the boy seemed happy enough. Snape had developed the habit of watching Nathan return from school whenever he was at home in the afternoon. It was not, he told himself, that he did it on purpose, it was just that he needed a break from whatever he was doing around four o'clock in the afternoon and his idea of a break happened to be enjoying a cup of tea while looking out the front-room window. On most days Nathan was alone, sometimes he walked with a tall, thin, red-haired boy who lived somewhere further down the street and seemed to be Nathan's only friend. On Thursdays he usually returned later in the afternoon with his mother in the car; then they had been doing their weekly shopping together. As far as Snape could tell Nathan was alright, so there was no need to meddle, no need to tell him or his mother anything about the boy's magic.

One rainy Thursday afternoon in March, while he was standing behind his living-room curtains, waiting for Nathan and his mother to arrive, a plump young woman suddenly materialised out of thin air on the other side of the street. Snape jumped and almost spilled his tea. Leaning forward to have a better look he snorted grimly. So this was Griselda Gnatbat, the Ministry protégé. Merlin's balls, what was she thinking, apparating right into the middle of a Muggle Street as if it were Diagon Alley? Had the weather been better she could have landed right next to a group of startled mothers with pushchairs or scared some unsuspecting children riding their bikes. Even on a grey, wet day like this some people might be walking their dogs or at least look out of their windows and see her, and with her elaborately coiffed blonde hair, crimson pencil skirt, matching high heeled shoes and bright yellow coat she wasn't exactly inconspicuous. Had this woman never heard of the Statute of Secrecy? Did she not possess the least bit of common sense?

Snape watched as the woman crossed the street, wrestling a clipboard from her large pink shoulder bag. She stopped in front of the McGregors' house, letting her eyes roam over its brick front. After writing something on the clipboard with a Muggle ball pen she looked up again, her attention now on Snape's house, her nose wrinkling in disgust at its grimy walls and rotting woodwork. Instinctively he stepped back from the window. Would she notice the wards this time? He had used complex high-security ones which were difficult to detect, but one couldn't be sure. He held his breath, watching the woman outside. Again she was scribbling something on her clipboard. If she had noticed the magic surrounding his premises, she didn't show it. Her focus was now back on the McGregors' house. Snape frowned when he saw her peering through his neighbours' front room window. Was this her idea of monitoring a prospective student? The next thing she did was even more disconcerting: Looking quickly right and left as if to make sure nobody was watching her she went up to the McGregors' front door, pulling out a letter that had got stuck in the flap of the letter box. Snape stepped forward again to have a better look. What was she doing that for? It had nothing to do with the monitoring job; it was downright nosy and rude. He felt a moment of sympathy for Minerva who had to put up with staff like this. The witch was writing on her clipboard again, the letter still in her hand, when a car pulled up to the kerb. Lisa McGregor and her son. Too late for Madam Gnatbat to get away unseen, Snape thought with malicious satisfaction, watching as Lisa McGregor opened her door and called out to the strange woman, who had dropped the letter in her futile attempt to shove the clipboard back into her bag. Lisa McGregor picked it up, reading the address, frowning at the stranger. Snape watched, fascinated, as the two women were standing opposite each other on the pavement, with Nathan waiting in the car. The plump witch in her ridiculous Muggle outfit, still clutching her clipboard, an arrogant, defiant expression on her face, and Lisa McGregor, half a head smaller, wearing well-worn jeans and trainers, confronting her, arms akimbo, glasses flashing belligerently. Snape could not understand all the words they were saying, but the tone of his neighbour's voice and her body language made it clear what she thought of the witch and her behaviour, and that she found whatever explanation the strange woman had given for it unsatisfactory. He could see Griselda Gnatbat's right hand open and close convulsively and almost felt her longing to pull out her wand and hex the Muggle woman. He wouldn't put it past her to lose control and really perform magic. Suddenly he felt very cold, overwhelmed by dread. If this happened - what was he to do? His own hand started to shake violently, he had to put down the tea cup. Outside he could see Mr Benson turning the corner and approaching the two women, walking his dog; he was a friendly old man, half deaf, who lived further down the street, in the other un-refurbished house of the terrace. Snape exhaled softly. Surely the presence of another Muggle would keep the stupid witch from using magic, wouldn't it? The voices became louder and angrier. Snape heard the word 'police' and saw Lisa McGregor reach into her bag, take out her mobile and start working the keypad. Griselda Gnatbat turned abruptly and beat as hasty a retreat as she could manage in her shoes, almost tripping over Mr Benson's terrier, which was placidly sniffing at a lamp post. Snape's shoulders slumped, accompanied by a sigh of relief; and only now he noticed with a pang of alarm that somehow he had instinctively pulled out his wand. With an angry shake of his head he shoved it back into his sleeve.

Lisa McGregor was still standing on the pavement, staring after the witch, breathing hard and quite red in the face. She exchanged a brief greeting with the dog's owner. Then she unlocked her front door, opened the boot of her car and, together with her son, started carrying several large carrier bags into the house. The car doors slammed shut, the front door closed and they were gone, leaving Snape alone with the thoughts he didn't want to think.

From what he had seen of the Gnatbat woman she was hopeless and incompetent. Her appearance and demeanour reminded him of a mixture of Dolores Umbridge and Rita Skeeter, two women he had cordially disliked for their unscrupulousness, incompetence and ignorance. If Nathan should ever get into trouble with his magic no help was to be expected from her. She probably wouldn't even notice that something was amiss, even if she visited the family more frequently and did the monitoring properly. And after today's encounter Lisa McGregor would be loath to accept any help from this woman. Minerva should be informed about the incident, relieve Griselda Gnatbat from the monitoring duties and send someone else. Send someone else… but that was the problem, wasn't it? She would ask him again, of course, wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, would come up with a multitude of arguments to convince him, would give him a variety of reasons why he was the best man for the job. But was he? A misanthropic cripple, a loner with a past so dark that he shouldn't be allowed near a nine-year-old boy at all? What good could come from his looking after the boy? And he didn't want to do it in the first place. He didn't want to become involved in his neighbours' affairs, he didn't want any contact with the wizarding world other than that he couldn't avoid if he wanted to make a living. And at the moment Nathan was fine, so far there hadn't been any further problems; therefore there was no reason, no reason whatsoever why he himself should step forward and meddle with the McGregors' affairs. No reason whatsoever.


	5. Chapter 5

_The usual disclaimers apply_

**Chapter Five**

It was a Friday in the middle of April. Friday was Snape's shopping day, the day of his weekly trip to the supermarket, which was in walking distance of his house. Walking there with his slow, uneven gait took him quite a while, but he had decided to regard this walk as his regular exercise; therefore, apart from the occasional water-repelling charm when he happened to be caught in the rain, he never employed magic to get there; only on his way back he allowed himself a mild levitating spell to reduce the weight of his carrier bag.

Today the weather was fine, cold and sunny. His two bulging carrier bags in hand he was about to leave the car park and cross the road when he heard loud children's voices and noticed some commotion around the corner of the supermarket building, in an area usually reserved for delivery vans, storage and staff. When he came closer he saw that there was a group of about a dozen boys wearing school uniforms. Some of them had bike helmets on their heads, bikes and schoolbags were scattered on the ground. The boys had formed a ring and were shouting, hooting, jeering. Snape wanted to walk on, whatever mischief these prats were up to, it wasn't his business, some member of the supermarket staff should stop them, tell them to leave the premises and go home.

And yet he didn't walk on, but remained standing on the pavement, watching the boys, spellbound by their wild laughter and shouting. Something or someone was in the centre of the ring, being pushed around and jeered at. Surely some other people should have heard the row by now, why didn't they come and end the ruckus, send the boys on their way? What about the other customers? Some of them were loading their cars nearby, didn't they notice?

Snape kept watching the scene, unable to tear himself away. The ring opened for a moment and he could see that the object of the boys' violent attention was another, smaller boy with dark hair. Snape swallowed hard and stepped closer, drawn by an uneasy sense of foreboding.

He had almost reached the group when the boy in the middle went down, clutching his arm and screaming with pain, and then, all of a sudden, there was a scraping noise, as a huge stack of pallets, sitting close to the boys against the wall, began to topple.

It took Snape only seconds to evaluate the situation. The heavy wooden objects moved, they were on the brink of falling down. They would certainly hit the boys. There would be injuries, severe, maybe even fatal ones.

He limped closer as fast as he could, shouting, but the boys were making too much noise, were too busy tormenting their victim, they didn't hear him.

Then the first pallet crashed down, missing the ring of boys by a few inches only. The boys screamed with fear, looking up at the pallets, unable to move, petrified with shock.

Snape sighed angrily. He had no choice, he had to act, no matter if these boys were ruthless, mindless bullies, they were still children, he had to protect them; he was the only one who was capable of doing it. Statute of Secrecy be damned.

Putting down his carrier bags he took out his wand and sent a non-verbal 'wingardium leviosa' at the pallets. Instead of crashing down they started to fly and gently landed some distance away. The boys were still unable to react, their eyes following the strange flying objects hovering above them as if mesmerized. The smaller boy was the first to recover from the shock, awkwardly he gathered his school bag and the things that had spilled out from it onto the asphalt with his left hand and looked around in confusion. When his eyes fell on Snape, he broke through the circle of boys and started running towards him.

"Mr. Snape?"

The boy was panting, his eyes wide with relief. His jacket was dirty, his trousers torn, showing bloody knees. His face was wet with tears and streaked with dirt, he was cradling his right arm with his left hand.

Snape made the last pallet land safely on top of the others and pocketed his wand. He gave the boy a curt nod and handed him a handkerchief.

"Nathan."

Whereas the gleeful jeering of the boys had failed to attract the attention of the passers-by, the spectacle of the flying pallets had managed to allure quite a number of people. A group of excited onlookers had formed behind Snape and the boy; they, too, had watched the scene in awe and open-mouthed silence; now they were coming round and started commenting on what they had witnessed, casting surreptitious, meaningful glances at the scruffy looking man and his small companion.

A white-coated supermarket employee emerged from one of the metal doors, looking from the boys, who had woken from their stupor by now and were busy gathering their bags and their bikes, eager to get away from the scene of these uncanny events as soon as possible, to the heap of pallets and then to Snape and Nathan and the crowd of people watching and gesticulating. He shouted at the boys, waving his arms wildly. One of them pointed towards Nathan and Snape. White coat came running towards them, stopping in front of Snape, looking him up and down suspiciously before speaking.

"What is this all about? What have you done?" The man stabbed the air with an accusing forefinger; his voice was hoarse with fury.

"I? Nothing," Snape replied calmly, his free hand slowly moving in the direction of his pocket. "Those boys over there messed around and bullied this one…" he gently put his hand on Nathan's shoulder, "and your pallets came down. You should be more careful with these things. They might kill somebody."

"But the boys said that you…"

"Don't be silly. I wasn't near the pallets. Besides, do I look as if I could move these things?" He lifted his cane meaningfully.

White coat blushed uncomfortably and dropped his gaze, his eyes resting on the slim wooden stick Snape was rolling between his fingers. With a visible effort he forced himself to look up again and frowned angrily as he saw Snape's lips curl into a sneer.

"Anyway, I must ask you to leave your name and address. You are a witness."

"I'd rather prefer not to."

"This is not a matter of what you'd prefer…"

"I'm afraid it is."

Snape's voice, albeit low, was cold and sharp and he fixed the man with so commanding a stare that he blushed even more and trailed off helplessly; then his face went blank. Some people in the crowd had started muttering in protest, but when the wizard turned slowly, scowling, they fell silent. Snape picked up his carrier bags and nudged Nathan gently in the back with his cane.

"Come."

They started to force their way through the ring of people, trying to get away before the questions and the demands that they would have to stay and that someone should call the police could become more articulate and manifest, but a bony woman with long, straight hair, whose flaming red colour didn't even make the pretence of being a product of nature, planted herself firmly in front of Snape, blocking their way.

"And what exactly do you want with the boy, Mister?" she demanded belligerently.

Snape gave her a long, evaluating look before replying quietly.

"As it happens, he is my neighbour's son. I'm walking him home, that's all."

"Your neighbour's son? What's his name?"

"Nathan."

The woman turned to the boy.

"Are you Nathan?"

Nathan nodded.

"Do you know this man?"

Again Nathan nodded. He swallowed, feeling the tears well up again. His arm was throbbing with pain, he wanted to get away from all these people, he wanted to go somewhere safe, he wanted to go home.

"Do you trust him?" the woman continued her interrogation.

Nathan looked up and met Snape's eyes. Something that could have been a tiny smile flitted across the tall man's narrow lips. The boy's left hand let go of his injured right arm and touched Snape's hand that held the shopping bags. The hand twitched slightly.

"Please", Nathan said in a small, tearful voice, "can we go home now?"

The woman scowled, not wanting to admit defeat, but then her face suddenly bore the same vacant expression as the supermarket employee's and she stepped aside to let Snape and Nathan pass. The rest of the crowd watched them in uneasy silence; there was no one who wanted to stop them any more.

"The pallets - did you do that?" Snape asked when they were a safe distance away from the supermarket.

Nathan looked at him with fearful eyes.

"I didn't do anything. I was so scared and thought that if these things fell down they would stop pushing me and then I became angry because I couldn't do anything and then they kicked me and my arm hurt so much… and suddenly…", he sobbed and wiped his nose with Snape's handkerchief.

"… it happened". Snape finished his sentence for him. "Someone could have died, you know."

Nathan nodded miserably. "I… I didn't want to kill them!" he cried.

Snape smiled sadly. "No, of course you didn't."

They continued walking in silence until they reached Snape's front door. The wizard turned to look at the boy.

"Is your mother home?"

Nathan shook his head.

"No, she has to work till six today. But I've got the key."

He put his schoolbag on the ground and started rummaging in it with his left hand.

"Leave it. Do you think you and your mother know me well enough for you to be allowed to come to my house?"

The boy nodded gravely.

"Then come with me. We need to have a look at your arm. And we need to talk. Let's leave your mother a note."


	6. Chapter 6

_The usual disclaimers apply_

**Chapter six  
**

Nathan was sitting on the edge of the threadbare sofa, holding an ice-pack wrapped in a tea towel against his right arm and looking around in wide-eyed awe. Snape had peeled off Nathan's jacket and pullover and had examined his arm as soon as they had closed the front door, finding it badly bruised, but not broken. Then he had fetched the ice pack and told him to sit down and wait as he had gone into the kitchen to store away his groceries.

The boy's eyes wandered around the gloomy room, taking in the shabby, old-fashioned furniture and the numerous bookshelves which covered every possible space on every wall, even the backs of the doors. He had never seen so many books outside a public library, in fact he had never seen books like these at all. These weren't the colourful paperbacks his Mum had at home, these were old, leather-bound tomes, their covers stained by the touch of many eager fingers, the gilt letters on their spines barely legible any more, and, as he could see in the one lying open in front of him on the rickety table, their pages brittle, stained and yellowing. He peered at the book curiously, trying to read the text, but it was in a language he didn't understand.

Nathan continued looking around the room. The only place without bookshelves was the fireplace. It was a real one, blackened by soot and with a mound of ash in its grate, so different from the neat electric fire in his own living room next door. There was a mirror above the fireplace, cracked and blind, a suitable backdrop for two heavy candle sticks and an array of strange looking objects on the mantle. The whole room seemed to be from a different age, another century. It looked as if Oliver Twist or Ebenezer Scrooge could step through the door any moment…

"I made tea and some sandwiches," Snape announced, returning from the kitchen, limping across the room, carefully balancing a tray. He put it down on the table while closing the book and pushing it to the side.

Nathan didn't drink tea, but he didn't dare refuse the mug his new friend held out for him. He gladly accepted a sandwich, however, feeling very hungry all of a sudden.

For the next ten minutes they didn't speak; Nathan was eating his sandwiches, surreptitiously watching the man sitting opposite him in an old armchair. He was cradling his mug of tea, elbows on his knees, staring at the table in front of him. He was the type of man kids usually were afraid of: Old and bitter, his face lined and harsh, dominated by the large hooked nose. His hair was still black, but it wasn't nice hair, it was shaggy and greasy like a vagrant's. His clothes were shabby, their cut and colours reminded Nathan of the things people wore in the old family photos his Mum kept in a box on the living-room shelves. He wasn't a kind or friendly man… But Nathan knew he needn't be afraid of Mr. Snape. This man had helped him, twice. And even if his voice was curt and his manner brusque, Nathan knew he could trust him…

He put his plate down and Snape looked up.

"Finished?" he asked and placed his mug on the table, looking at Nathan thoughtfully for a very long moment. Nathan stared back, fascinated by the blackness of the man's eyes and the intensity of his gaze. Taking a deep breath Snape pulled something from the sleeve of his jumper. A thin wooden stick, black and polished. The stick he had held in his hand when he had made the pallets fly, the stick his fingers had played with before the man in the white coat and later on the woman with the red hair had shown these absent-minded expressions on their faces. Nathan blinked and watched.

"Look here."

The black stick was pointed at the last sandwich on the plate, which rose into the air and hovered two feet above the table. Nathan stared at it open-mouthed, his eyes following the triangle of bread and ham as the stick lowered it onto the plate again.

"That… that… was… like these wooden things…" Nathan stammered.

Snape nodded and exhaled softly.

"I'm a wizard, Nathan."

"A wizard? That's … like a magician? Then you… can do magic?"

The boy's eyes were wide with wonder and shining with excitement. He had watched the so-called magicians on TV and heard about how they used tricks and clever diversionary tactics to create illusions and make people think they could do magic. Would Mr Snape tell him about these tricks, teach him any?

"Yes, Nathan. I can do magic, real magic that is, no tricks. And so can you."

"Me? Real magic? But, Mr. Snape, no, I don't think… not I…I …I mean, nobody can…"

"Yes, Nathan, some people can do magic and you are one of them. These 'funny' things that happen when you are angry or scared are simply manifestations of the raw, innate magic you haven't yet learned to control."

"Innate magic? Me?"

"Yes, Nathan."

The boy kept shaking his head incredulously, biting his knuckles. Magic. It sounded as if magic was a special talent people had, as if magic really existed in some people. But that was impossible, wasn't it; magic wasn't real, magic happened in fairy tales and films, but not in the real life of a nine-year-old boy in Manchester. This man was pulling his leg. What he had done was just a trick, maybe there was a hidden string attached to the sandwich. Nathan shook his head more firmly, his entire body radiating emphatic disbelief.

"It isn't true", he said defiantly.

Snape sighed and for a moment he looked as if he would lose patience and tell Nathan to get out of his house. But he said nothing; he only stared at the boy in mute exasperation while running his hand through his hair. Then he placed the stick on the table, gently and delicately, taking care to make it lie in the exact centre and parallel to the edge. Nathan watched him, hardly daring to breathe.

"Come here, then, let's have a look at your arm", Snape said, looking up again and beckoning Nathan to come over to his armchair. Surprised at this new turn of events the boy stood, slowly, reluctantly, as if against his will, and walked around the table.

Snape took hold of his right arm and gently removed the ice pack. The area around the elbow was swollen and badly bruised. Nathan held his breath and forced himself not to flinch when he saw Snape picking up his black stick, pointing it at the arm and muttering something under his breath. Immediately the swelling receded and the bruises vanished, the arm was back to normal, it didn't hurt any more.

Nathan moved his arm carefully, looking at Snape in awe and disbelief. The pain was gone.

"This was real magic, Nathan. Shall we do some more?" The black eyes were glittering.

The boy nodded mutely and the black stick healed the abrasions on his knees and mended his trousers.

The glittering became more intense.

"Now it's your turn."

Snape handed him his teaspoon.

"Stand here, next to me. Say 'wingardium leviosa' and move the spoon like this."

Nathan wanted to refuse, but couldn't, he felt as if he was under a spell, he couldn't take his eyes off Snape's right hand and his voice didn't belong to him any longer. His tongue stumbled over the unfamiliar, meaningless syllables, but after several tries he was able to pronounce them correctly and his hand had mastered the movement as well.

"That was acceptable", Snape said. "Now we can risk a try; take my wand."

"Sorry?"

"My wand. Take it."

Nathan looked from the black wooden stick to Snape's face and back again. The stick was thrust into his sweaty hand. It felt warm to the touch and seemed to vibrate softly.

"Perform the spell again. Point the wand at the sandwich and make it rise."

Nathan swallowed. The lump in his throat was so big, he surely would suffocate. He cleared his throat.

"Wingardium leviosa!" he yelped, his wand movement quick and erratic. The sandwich zoomed upwards, fell apart, its components cannoning into the nearest bookshelf where the buttered slice of bread remained sticking to a particularly valuable looking tome and the ham landed on a loose sheet of paper one shelf further down. Nathan dropped the wand in shock. He had ruined the book, the ham would leave a greasy spot on the paper, Snape would be angry with him… but… but…it had happened… magic… he really had made the sandwich fly, he had done magic …

A hand was on his shoulder.

"Well done, Nathan, well done indeed. You see, this was real magic, Nathan, wasn't it? There were no tricks whatsoever. Only a wizard could have done this."

The boy took a shuddering breath and looked up into the man's face. A faint smile had settled on the harsh features. It looked as if it was reluctant to be there and would vanish in a second, but for Nathan it was a signal of encouragement and friendship.

"I can do magic… wicked", he whispered.

"Well…", Snape replied and bent to retrieve his wand from under the table. He pointed it at the sandwich pieces, muttering a new spell and making them vanish. There was no stain on the book and no stain on the paper either, as Nathan noticed with relief. "Technically, yes. You are a wizard. But according to wizarding law you are not allowed to own a wand or to practice magic before you are eleven, and then only at Hogwarts, the school for wizards."

"Oh. I see." Nathan's high spirits evaporated. What use was it to be a wizard if one couldn't use one's abilities in everyday life? There had to be spells that helped with the tedious loads of homework or magic that could be used effectively against those big bullies?

Seeing the disappointment on his face, Snape guided the boy back to the sofa and sat down next to him.

"It's for your own safety, Nathan. Magic is nothing to play with. It's a mighty power that can harm and destroy if you don't know how to use it prudently. And to do this it takes years of learning. As for the time being…"

A knock at the door interrupted him. For a moment both, man and boy, froze, staring at each other. Then Snape roused himself, limped towards the door, while Nathan remained on the sofa, biting his nails with excitement.

"Nathan's with you?" he heard his mother's voice, anxious and out of breath.

"Good evening, Mrs McGregor", Snape replied politely. "Yes, Nathan's with me, we left you a note if I recall correctly."

Nathan saw his mother's mouth twitch. He knew this expression, she was in a bad mood. He also saw her eyes wander around the room in a quick, appraising sweep, saw them widen in disbelief.

"Excuse me, Mr. Snape, but… why is he with you today again? Has anything happened?"

"Mum, I'm a wizard!" her son excitedly got ahead of Snape's reply. His mother gave him a stare of rebuke and consternation.

"Nat!? What nonsense is this?"

"It's no nonsense, mum; it's so wicked. Mr Snape told me and I didn't believe him at first and then he proved it to me and let me do magic with a spoon and then with his wand and a sandwich and I really could do it. Mum…."

Lisa McGregor looked from her son to her neighbour.

"Mr. Snape?"

"Yes, Mrs. McGregor, your son is a wizard, I…"

Lisa McGregor rolled her eyes and exhaled vehemently.

"Right, well, Nat, Mr. Snape, whatever you two've been up to, it's late and Nat needs his dinner and has homework to do. Come on, son, let's go home. Good bye, Mr. Snape, and you really shouldn't encourage Nat to develop silly ideas like these; he has enough problems at school as it is."

"But… Mum, I…!"

"Mrs McGregor, listen please…

"I'm sorry, Mr Snape, but I haven't got time for your silly games."

"Mrs McGregor, I can prove…"

"Come on, Nathan!"

"Mum, it's Friday. I can do my homework tomorrow or on Sunday. Why don't you…"

"Nathan… please!"

"Mum!"

"Where's your schoolbag?"

"It's here, but Mum…"

"Let's. .Now!"

The boy cast a desperate look at the wizard, but Snape stood in the middle of the room, motionless, lips pressed together in a firm line, arms crossed in front of his chest as if he was protecting himself from the tornado of righteous indignation emanating from Lisa McGregor, watching Nathan's pleading with his mother, his pale face a stony mask. No help was to be expected from him now, Nathan thought, disappointed. Why did grown-ups always stick together? Skulking, he gathered his schoolbag and shuffled from the room. His mother nodded curtly at Snape and followed him. The front door banged shut.

Raking a weary hand through his hair Snape sank into his armchair, sighing deeply. This had not gone well. This had not gone well at all. He had intended to break the news gently in order not to upset Nathan's mother more than absolutely necessary. In this he had failed. Why did the blasted woman have to be in such a temper? It had taken all of his self-control not to shout at her, not to use a spell and force her to be quiet and listen, which surely would have been a bad start for what was meant to develop into quite close a relationship with her and her son. Merlin, Lisa McGregor's opinion of him had been all too discernible in her expression. If he wanted to help the boy he would have to make a tremendous effort to get back in her good books and convince her to listen to him. He sighed once more. Did he really want to do this? Was it worth the trouble?


	7. Chapter 7

_The usual disclaimers apply_

**Chapter seven **

Snape didn't know how long he had been sitting in his chair, staring into the fire he had lit against the evening chill, his thoughts running in circles, when suddenly the flames turned green and the bald head of a black man appeared in the grate. Snape froze, then sighed wearily, and he and the head exchanged a long, mute stare.

"What?" Snape finally snapped in lieu of a greeting.

"Good evening, Severus. I'm glad you kept your fireplace connected to the floo-network, it makes things easier."

Snape grimaced and cursed inwardly. He had forgotten to sever the connection after his visit to Hogwarts. The head continued, businesslike.

"I'm calling to tell you that we received information about an exceptionally massive volume of magic in your neighbourhood, Severus, and I wondered if you were involved somehow. Our sensors registered an undefined outbreak, a levitation spell and even two traces of Dark Magic and..."

Snape interrupted him with a harsh, ugly parody of a laugh,

"Of course I was involved. Who else could be responsible for Dark Magic but Severus Snape, the former Deatheater? What are you going to do now, Mr Head Auror? Cast me into Azkaban?"

"Severus…"

"Here you are. Come through, arrest me, take me where most of the wizarding population think I belong anyway."

Snape had risen from his chair, stepping close to the fireplace, his hands outstretched, wrists crossed.

"Oh, come on Severus, don't be ridiculous. I've come to talk with you. You are familiar with the procedure, you know about the magic alerts outside wizarding communities and that we have to investigate these incidents and prevent them from being noticed by Muggles. Today, thanks to the initiative of the auror on duty, our people arrived in time, well before the Muggle police and managed to sort things out and convince them to leave everything to us. When I was informed about the incident and read the report I thought it better to handle this particular case discreetly and do the investigation myself, knowing that it had happened near your place and that you are not overly keen on being dragged into the limelight. So, can I come through now and discuss this with you?"

Snape returned to his chair, grunting a reply that could be taken for an affirmative and lit the candles in the room with a flick of his wand. Shortly afterwards a tall black man, clad in robes of a rich blue colour, stepped out of the fireplace. He nodded a greeting, did a quick survey of the room and sat down on the sofa. The two men watched each other warily. At last the visitor broke the silence.

"Minerva told me something about a young boy, a Muggle-born wizard not yet at Hogwarts, living in the house next to yours."

Again a grunt was the only answer. The black man took it for a 'yes'.

"So it was him who released the magic?"

Snape closed his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, trying to keep the beginnings of a headache at bay.

"Yes, it was him. He was attacked and tormented by a group of youngsters and couldn't control the outbreak of magical energy, which would have caused serious damage if I had not intervened. It was an emergency, Kingsley, I simply had no choice but to use magic myself."

"Unforgivables?"

"Mild ones."

"Unforgivables all the same, Severus. They are illegal."

"As I said, Kingsley, I had no choice. How was I to explain the levitation spell I had used to the Muggle mob? _Obliviate_ doesn't work with a crowd. There were going to be questions. If I hadn't cast Imperius Curses on the most obstinate of the Muggles Nathan and I wouldn't have been able to slip away so easily; we would have got into trouble."

Kingsley harrumphed and shook his head.

"That's all very well, but a situation like this still doesn't legitimize the use of Unforgivables, Severus. The penalty is a stint in Azkaban, as I'm sure you know…"

"So I was right. Why don't you stop beating around the bush then? Arrest me, get it over and done with."

Snape's visitor held up a soothing hand and continued.

"… in this case, however, there may be an alternative… Well, we'll come to that later. Back to the boy. Did you tell him about his magic?"

"Yes, I did," Snape answered gruffly.

"This is against the Statute of Secrecy, Severus."

"I know."

"You should have consulted the Ministry first."

"I know."

"Then why didn't you do it, man?"

Snape hit the armrest of his chair with his fist, raising a fine cloud of dust.

"Merlin's beard, Kingsley, who's being ridiculous now? Have you turned into such a brainless, pedantic paper-pusher? The boy was here with me, sitting in the same spot where you are sitting now; he had just witnessed this, as you called it 'massive volume of magic', he was injured, he was confused. Should I have ignored his well-being for the sake of a pile of red-bloody-tape? It was past four o'clock on a Friday afternoon. Should I have sent the boy home without an explanation while attempting to contact the Ministry, hoping to find the official in charge still at their bloody desk and willing to embark on the lengthy and complicated process of writing out a bloody permit for pre-Hogwarts-letter information? Or should I have made Nathan cope with his traumatic experience alone all through the weekend, waiting to hopefully get the permit on Monday?"

He was leaning forward, a shaking forefinger pointed into the black man's face accusingly. His visitor stared back in silence, the twitching of a muscle in his jaw the only sign of tension. Taking a deep, ragged breath Snape continued.

"Instead I made him tea and sandwiches, I healed his injuries, and you can't but agree that it was the perfect opportunity to demonstrate a harmless little spell and to tell him about magic. I just preferred not to waste time by asking permission of your lot first."

Kingsley shifted his position, instinctively inching away from Snape's aggressive presence.

"I see. Very well, Severus, what's done cannot be undone, so we must try to make the best of the situation. Do his parents know?"

"He lives with his mother. She doesn't know."

"She has to be informed as well."

Snape nodded and shrugged, leaning back again in his chair, closing his eyes against his headache.

"As to the further procedure…" The black wizard moved to a more comfortable position and crossed his legs, pulling a manila envelope from the inside pocket of his robes. "The boy is…what? nine years old? That means, as you've already mentioned, first of all we need a special permit. I've brought along the papers, ready for you to sign. I have also brought our latest brochure for Muggle parents and the form the boy's mother has to fill in and sign, confirming to adhere to the Statue of Secrecy. With her signature she will be granted auxiliary status automatically."

Snape opened his eyes and frowned in disbelief.

"No questioning by an official, no ceremony at the Ministry any longer?"

Kingsley smiled.

"Due to the fact that we've been getting more and more Muggle-born young wizards since the war and that the Ministry is chronically short-staffed, we abolished these old-fashioned, time-consuming ceremonies in favour of a quicker, more direct approach."

Snape snorted disapprovingly. Kingsley shrugged.

"I admit that it is a very mundane business this way, lacks all the pomp and circumstance, but it simplifies things considerably. Anyway, what I wanted to say is that the boy will need a mentor until he is old enough to go to Hogwarts. Minerva doubts that Professor Gnatbat is up to the job and suggests that you should do it. Are you willing to take on the task?"

Snape stared into the fire, ignoring his visitor. Was he willing? The first answer that came to his mind was a definite 'no'. But then… telling Nathan about magic and teaching him the spell had been… pleasant. The boy was a quick learner… This, however, had been just one afternoon. Being a mentor would mean deeper commitments. He would have to establish regular contact with the boy and with his mother. Did he really want to do this? Did he want to give up his independence for them?

"I don't think I'm capable of doing it, Kingsley."

"Why not, Severus? I must say I agree with Minerva. You are the ideal choice, you live next door, the boy knows you."

"I'm a cripple."

The black wizard fidgeted uncomfortably and scratched his head. When he answered, there was an extra dose of encouraging brightness in his voice.

"Well, Severus, I don't think that you need to be able to beat the speed record in broom flying or … what is this competition that is becoming more and more popular with Muggles? Ah, yes, marathon. You don't need to be able to run a marathon in order to monitor and instruct the boy, and as far as I know your mental capacities were not affected by your injuries. You should be perfectly capable of doing it."

"No." Snape replied bluntly, still staring into the fire.

"Merlin's beard, Severus, you've been a teacher for almost two decades, you can do it with your eyes closed and both of your hands tied behind your back."

"A teacher! Oh yes, as everyone can confirm I was an exceptionally fine specimen of a teacher. Students hated me and I despised them."

"That was due to the circumstances. Now you can…"

"That was due to who I am, Kingsley."

"You played a role."

"I'm afraid you overrate my acting skills. The person the students hated and feared – that was really I."

During the entire dialogue Snape had not looked up from the fire once. Leaning back, his hands behind his neck, the black man sighed and regarded Snape's profile – the large nose half hidden by the greasy curtain of hair – thoughtfully.

"Severus… as much as I regret having to resort to methods like these… believe me, I really don't like to do what I'm going to do now… but… you're leaving me no choice…"

Kingsley paused, waiting for his ominous words to evoke some reaction, but Snape kept staring into the flames. His visitor cleared his throat.

"These Imperius Curses you used…"

Snape's head turned sharply.

"Yes?"

"Well, you see, we could forget they were cast… sometimes the sensors give false alarm, we could put it down to that and nobody would ask awkward questions… if you agreed to look after Nathan."

"This is blackmail."

"Yes," Kingsley agreed affably, "but I believe in the old the-end-justifies-the-means-routine, Severus. Minerva is absolutely convinced that you are the best man for the job and I think we should do everything to ensure that the best man gets the job."

Snape snorted contemptuously.

"Or would you rather go to Azkaban for a while?"

Running a tired hand across his face, his lips pressed into a thin line, Snape lifted his head, staring scornfully at the other man.

"Azkaban may not be the hellhole it was ten or twenty years ago, but it still is not a pleasant place to stay, Severus. "

"I'm sure a few weeks' residence there wouldn't kill me. And if it did…" Snape shrugged.

"Don't be so pigheadedly stupid, man!"

"Do you think that bullying me into taking on the task is a good start for the job at hand?"

Kingsley smiled wryly and rose to his feet.

"Well, sometimes it takes a bit of – incentive to make someone come to the right decision. Think it over, Severus, I'm sure you'll see what is best for the boy – and for you – in the end. I'm leaving you the paperwork, read it through, talk to the boy's mother and send it back as soon as it is completed. If there are further questions, you can always contact me at my floo extension."

He held out the envelope; and when Snape made no move to take it, he put it on the table, nodded once and stepped into the fireplace.


	8. Chapter 8

_Dear readers, many thanks, hugs and chocolate biscuits to all of you who are still with me and especially to those who wrote so many encouraging reviews. I'm sorry I didn't get round to answering them personally, this doesn't mean that I don't appreciate them. I'm just very busy at work at the moment and shouldn't be writing fan-fiction stories at all. So you'll probably also have to wait a bit longer for the next update. _

_The usual disclaimers apply  
_

**Chapter Eight**

The flames had barely turned to their natural orange colour again, when there was a knock at the door. Snape looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. Quarter to ten. Who on earth wanted to see him at so late an hour?

His question was answered when, after a second, more insisting bout of knocking, a female voice called his name.

Lisa McGregor. Had Nathan forgotten anything? And, sweet Merlin, did the woman want to alert the entire street? He could sense the neighbours peering through their front room curtains.

With a deep sigh he rubbed his hand across his forehead in the futile attempt to relieve the throbbing pain. What he needed now was not another visitor but a dose of pain potion. He had emptied his last vial the night before, planning to brew new supplies this afternoon after his shopping; Nathan and the pallets, however, had thwarted these plans. Muttering a heartfelt string of curses under his breath he limped to the door, opening it cautiously.

His neighbour greeted him with a sheepish smile and a bottle of wine.

"I know it's late, but I saw the lights and didn't want to wait till tomorrow. I've come to apologize, Mr. Snape. My behaviour earlier this evening was very rude. Nat told me about the trouble at the supermarket and I'm so sorry…"

"Don't be. Come in," interrupted Snape gruffly, peering anxiously over her shoulder into the street, "we need to talk."

He led the way, gesturing towards the sofa and sitting down in his own chair again. He closed his eyes for a moment, silently praying to whatever Deity was listening for enough strength and patience to endure yet another visitor at the end of the most turbulent day he had had for the last seven years. Thus he missed the quick, suspicious glance Nathan's mother cast at the worn piece of furniture before sitting down gingerly, putting the bottle on the table.

"I understand that you helped Nat once again, Mr Snape. Thank you so much, that was very kind of you. I hope you like dry white wine, it's something special, I've got it from a friend in California."

She hesitated, attempting to mask the nervous tension displayed by her stiff posture and the twisting of her fingers in her lap with a smile of desperate cheerfulness. She cleared her throat.

"Right. Now, what Nat told me about those wooden planks…"

"Pallets, Mrs McGregor."

"Pallets, right. They came tumbling down and Nat said it was all his fault and…"

"What happened was that your son was extremely agitated and frightened and this triggered his magic which set the pallets loose."

Nathan's mother stared at him for a moment; then she took a deep breath, preparing for a retort. Snape held up his right hand.

"No, please wait, hear me out. I know it sounds unbelievable to a Muggle, a non-magical person like you; however, Nathan did tell you the truth when he said he was a wizard. I'm a wizard myself and when I first met Nathan and you told me about his problems at school I suspected him of having magic. I must confess that I made some enquiries to find out if I was correct on the very same day, but I refrained from informing you, because Nathan seemed to be doing fine and it would have meant getting a special permit from the Ministry; I must admit that I couldn't be bothered with all the red tape. Muggle parents usually receive the information only when their children are due to start secondary school. "

"If you didn't intend to tell me anything – why did you bother to confirm your assumptions at all?"

He exhaled loudly and shrugged. "Call it curiosity."

"If you had told us about it…,"

"Would you have believed me?"

"I don't know. I don't know if I believe you now. So what you're saying is that all these inexplicable things that happen to him are… are…"

"…are just symptoms of his raw magic, yes. He hasn't learned to control it yet, so if he is agitated, his magical power makes things happen, makes objects or even animals or people move or react."

For a while Lisa McGregor said nothing. Rubbing the back of her hand under her chin, she looked at him thoughtfully, obviously trying to digest what she had just heard. Snape moved his head to ease the tension in his neck muscles.

Finally his visitor cleared her throat and, interlacing her fingers in her lap again, she said slowly,

"From what he told me, the affair this afternoon could have ended tragically. The pallets could have hurt or even killed the boys, if … if…you…"

"If I hadn't intervened", Snape finished calmy.

Lisa McGregor nodded, keeping her eyes on the fingers in her lap. Snape remained silent, waiting, watching her. He remembered Minerva asking him what she was like. He started noticing details, details he would remember. She did not wear glasses now. Perhaps she needed them for driving only or she had – what did Muggles call them? Contact lenses? Her hair, thick and honey-coloured, pulled back into a ponytail. Her face, features slightly asymmetrical, her eyebrows darker than her hair. Her eyes… what colour were her eyes? He couldn't tell from where he was sitting and in the candle light, even when she finally raised her head and looked at him.

"You 'intervened'?" she asked. "What exactly did you do?"

"I used magic, Mrs McGregor. A levitation spell and this."

He pulled his wand from his sleeve and presented it to her on the palm of his right hand.

Lisa McGregor recoiled slightly and shifted her position on the sofa.

"Is it the… wand Nat told me about?"

"It is."

Her hand went to her throat and for some endless seconds she just stared at the wand. Then she looked up and met his eyes.

"I don't… I can't… would you mind showing me?" she breathed.

Taking the wand by the handle, Snape turned and summoned two glasses from the kitchen. They performed an elegant arch across the room and did a soft landing on the table. He pointed his wand at the bottle and the cork popped out. Another movement made the bottle rise and pour the golden liquid into the glasses.

Snape put the wand on the table without a comment and picked up his glass, raising it to his visitor. He waited while Lisa McGregor obediently took hers and followed his example. She put it to her lips, but instead of drinking she suddenly set it down on the table again with a shaking hand, looking at him with a mixture of despair and accusation.

"I don't know how to believe this. I don't know how to handle this. I don't know what to do."

Neither do I, thought Snape, while holding her glance, arranging his face in his well-practised dispassionate mask, revealing nothing about the helplessness he felt. He was tired, his headache was getting worse by the minute and made it impossible for him to think straight.

"Why are things never easy for me?" Lisa McGregor exclaimed vehemently. "Why did I have to fall in love with a man who thought nothing of shagging each and every one of the female staff on his ward behind my back, why did I actually marry the bastard? Why do I have a son who… who's a freak, running around and inadvertently causing damage, endangering other people, why… damn it! why? Why me?! Is it just bad luck? Or am I exceptionally stupid? Is it because I was a bad wife? Should I have tolerated my husband's affairs just to save our farce of a marriage for Nat's sake? Is it because I wouldn't give up my job and stay at home after Nat was born? Is it because I have to work long hours and am tired or still too preoccupied with my work when I get home? Is it because I'm a bad mum? Oh… shit..shit…shit!"

She squeezed her eyes shut and slammed her fist on her thigh, tears were trickling down her cheeks. Snape had listened to her tirade in stony silence, inwardly cursing the woman for having what seemed to be a nervous breakdown right in front of him. What was he to do? Comfort her, reassure her? Except that he was at a complete loss for adequate words, his throat was dry, his tongue glued to the top of his mouth. Grab hold of her arms and shake her, shout at her to bloody stop it? Yes, that sounded more like his line of action, but he suddenly noticed how small and thin she was, her wrists were barely thicker than a child's. She looked utterly forlorn.

And all at once the sight of her crying was like a déjà vu, it triggered some long forgotten feeling of responsibility in him. Very slowly he returned his glass to the table, pushed himself from the chair and limped over to the sofa. Very slowly and carefully he lowered himself next to her, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. He examined it critically and put it back, reaching over the armrest for a box of tissues that was perched on top of a stack of old newspapers next to the sofa. Offering it to her with one hand he raised the other one – hesitating, watching – and very gingerly put it on her shoulder. How many times had he done this with a homesick first year, always feeling dreadfully inadequate to the task and pity for the children who had no one to turn to in their pain and distress but a head of house who was sadly lacking emotional competence.

With a heart-rending sob Lisa McGregor pulled a tissue from the box and buried her face in it. Awkwardly he patted her back, muttering a meaningless 'there, there'. And then, when she didn't stop crying, he slid his arm around her shoulder, holding her. He closed his eyes, hardly daring to breathe. Physical contact… how many years since he had voluntarily touched another human being like this? How many years since he had been sitting so close to another person? He couldn't remember. He had always felt uncomfortable when being touched and had avoided physical contact if possible. But now… he felt the warmth of the woman at his side, the softness of her hair, smelled a faint scent of vanilla… and it felt… not bad. He half expected her to recoil from his tentative hand any minute, to slap him across the face, to jump up from the sofa and run from the house. But she did none of these things; she accepted his offer of physical contact, despite his ugly, crippled body and generally unprepossessing manner and appearance. And something washed over him, enveloped him, filled him with warmth and softness, something made him say the sounds he would never have expected his vocal chords to be willing to produce, the words that were bound to change his life completely: "I… could… help you."

Lisa McGregor stiffened, turned and looked at him. Her eyes were red, dark smudges of mascara underneath them. She took another tissue from the box and tried to wipe them away together with the tears.

"Help me? How? What can you do?"

"Well, talk to Nathan, explain things to him, teach him how to control his emotions and how to keep his magic in rein. It will be easier for him if he can confide in somebody who has some first-hand experience with his problems."

She stared at him, a long, questioning look. In the dim light of the room her eyes were almost the same colour as her hair, as he could see now. Unusual, odd. She blew her nose.

"Thank you, I think I…I'd appreciate that. But I don't want to bother you. "

She pushed herself into an upright position and away from him, causing him to feel an irrational pang of disappointment.

"God, I'm so sorry for falling apart like this on top of disturbing you in the middle of the night. You must think I'm hysterical. This is really embarrassing. I usually don't break into tears easily, but … oh, shit, it's all due to the bad day I had at work, I suppose and I'm so worried about Nat…"

Shaking her head vigorously she picked up the glass of wine and drank thirstily.

"It's alright", he muttered gruffly, embarrassed about the emotions he had allowed himself to be overcome with.

"I'm Lisa", she continued, smiling a watery smile at him.

"Severus", he answered after a second of hesitation.

"Severus", she repeated, thoughtfully. "I don't know much Latin, but doesn't that mean serious or stern? It is an apt name, I think."

He shrugged. "It's just a name."

Sitting back and crossing her legs she blew her nose and took another sip from her glass.

"Are there many… wizards in England?"

"Well, yes, a few thousand."

"Why do we know nothing about them?"

"It's a parallel society, we have nothing to do with the Muggle, the non-magical world. We keep ourselves apart and well-hidden."

"Does that mean I'll lose Nat? Will he be able to have contact with me? Will he still want to have contact with me?"

"You won't lose him. Muggle parents are sworn to secrecy and the children are at home in both worlds."

"Are all wizards like you?"

The words came out conversationally, but her anxious eyes told him that she was thinking of his appearance, his attire, his house and was not at all happy about the kind of company her son would probably keep. He laughed softly.

"No, not at all, don't worry. Wizards as a rule are just like Muggles, normal families, children, teenagers. Their life spans are somewhat longer and they tend to dress differently if they are among their own kind. But when they are among Muggles, dressed as Muggles, not doing any magic you couldn't tell the difference."

She nodded slowly. He could see that there was more on her mind, some questions she burned to ask but didn't know how to phrase.

"So what happened … I'm sorry, but… I mean… you…"

His hand performed a sweeping gesture, including the room and himself.

"What you see here isn't due to the fact that I'm a wizard, but due to the fact that I am…well, I. My life has always been somewhat… different. Seven years ago I turned my back on society and since then I've kept my interactions with both wizards and Muggles on the lowest level possible.""

She looked taken aback.

"If you don't want any contact, why did you help Nat, why have you just offered me your help, Severus?"

He picked up his glass and drained it. Then he held it against the light of the candles on the mantelpiece, watching their flames' distorted shapes through the glass. Why? Good question. What to say, how to explain? He hesitated, and the part of him that was sarcastic and mischievous got the upper hand and made him opt for the superficial truth, for the answer he could give without having to ponder on what his true reasons were. Curious of how she would react, he turned to Lisa again and there was a glint in his eyes.

"I admit that it is contrary to my usual sentiments and behaviour. But if I had not agreed to do it they would send me to prison."

She gulped.

"What?"

"Two of the spells I used this afternoon were illegal. So they offered me a deal: If I am willing to help Nathan they will ignore that the spells were cast."

For a second she stared at him open-mouthed, then she burst out laughing.

"That's… oh my, at least you're honest. And it seems as if my son got you into real trouble. I'm so sorry…"

"Do me favour. Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Being sorry all the time. Nothing is your fault."

"Oh. I'm sor….. OK. Right. Who is 'they'?"

"Who?"

"You said 'they offered you a deal'. Who offered you a deal?"

"The Ministry of Magic. Just before you came I had another visitor. The head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Oh. But I saw no one leave the house. The street was empty."

"He used the fireplace."

"The fireplace?"

Her head turned towards the flames, which were slowly dying. He nodded, the shadow of a grin in his face.

"A very popular means of communication and transport among wizards."

"I see."

She blew her nose and took a deep breath.

"This is all so unbelievable. Like a dream, or a nightmare rather…"

He picked up the envelope from the table and held it out for her to take.

"This is the information the Ministry provides for the families of Muggle born witches and wizards. Take it home, read it through and then we can talk again."

She took the envelope, peering into it curiously.

"It's a lot of paper."

"Yes, it is. Although the whole procedure is easier today than it used to be, or so I was told. Take your time, come back when you've finished."

She nodded hesitantly, fiddling with the flap of the envelope. She didn't look happy at all, doubt was clearly visible in her face. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You don't have to accept, you know."

"Accept what?"

"My help. If you'd rather have someone else…or wait until Nathan is eleven… just walk out of this room and I promise I won't bother you again."

"And go to prison?"

He shrugged.

Lisa held his gaze. Once again he tried to make his face unreadable, fighting against the exhaustion, against the pain that seemed to fill his entire body now, and he knew that he couldn't succeed. The expression in her perceptive, red-rimmed, strangely honey-coloured eyes told him that she sensed the vibrations of emotional turmoil behind the dispassionate mask.

"This is nonsense and you know it. Of course I'll accept your help, Severus… gladly."


	9. Chapter 9

_The usual disclaimers apply._

**Chapter Nine**

Running his hand across the smooth skin of his freshly shaven chin Severus Snape examined his face in the small mirror above the kitchen sink. He had managed the shave without cutting himself today, no mean feat, given the tremor in his hands. Satisfied he picked up a comb and ran it through his hair, which was almost dry and clean and shiny; he had washed it an hour ago.

After a last stroke of the comb he greeted his reflection with a mock salute.

"Tolerable," he muttered and went into the living room to put on a clean shirt.

It was the second Sunday in June. Nathan's Day, as Snape had started to call every second Sunday when he went over to the McGregors in the afternoons and taught Nathan about the wizarding world. Today was going to be his third visit.

Lisa McGregor had dealt with all the papers from the Ministry in a very sober-minded, sensible and efficient way, reading everything carefully, highlighting passages with fluorescent markers, writing comments and questions in the margin. Obviously the information provided by the brochure was thorough and comprehensible, leaving her full of wonder about the existence of the wizarding world, but with few unanswered questions. Then she had come to him and they had talked things through, had signed the papers and sent them to the Ministry using a venerable grey owl Snape had rented from the post office in the nearest wizarding community. By then Lisa had ingested so much information about British wizards and their way of life that she had only uttered a small, tired sigh of surprise when she had learnt about the nature of the wizarding mail carriers. And only two days later a Ministry owl had returned with the letter of confirmation installing Severus as Nathan's mentor.

Thoughtfully Snape closed the buttons of his shirt. At first he had considered wearing his Hogwarts robes, but on second thoughts had dismissed them as being too conspicuous in the quiet Sunday afternoon Muggle neighbourhood. So he had decided to don his Muggle best instead, a black suit he had bought for his father's funeral fifteen years ago. Of course Lisa had noticed that he had honoured the occasion by going to great lengths to improve his appearance, he still relished the memory of her face when she had opened the door. During his session with Nathan he had often felt her curious gaze, and when he had looked her way she had quickly averted her eyes, colouring slightly. She had not said anything, though, and he had seen no reason to explain his reasons to her.

Dressing smartly had always been important to him in his life before Voldemort's final downfall. His formal, sombre attire, originally adopted as the favourite uniform among the Death Eaters, had continued to provide him with an aura of authority and intimidation; it was the young teacher's suit of armour against the arrogant Slytherin students barely younger than himself, it was his shield against the students' unwillingness to learn or their lack of interest in anything academic. It created a distance between himself and his more gaudily dressed colleagues, between himself and the rest of mankind in general.

Not that he wanted to intimidate Nathan or his mother in any way, but sticking to his private rituals had always proved useful for mastering the difficult task that had been his life, and they would help him now when the pleasant, constant, uneventful, peaceful flow of his isolated post-war existence had been so vehemently interrupted.

Taking the brand-new copy of 'My Magical World' he had bought via mail order from Diagon Alley in preparation for the lessons, he picked up his cane and was on his way to the McGregors' house.

"Dragons? Real dragons? With flames coming from their mouths? And giants? How big are they?"

Nathan was fidgeting with excitement, his face glowing, his brown eyes large and shining.

The man sitting next to him turned a page in the book and pointed at the picture.

"Quite big, taller than your house. Only a very small number of wizards have actually met a giant, because they live in remote mountainous regions on the continent, but when you come to Hogwarts…"

Lisa's attention drifted from the lecture about magical creatures to her own contemplations about her neighbour. The late afternoon sun was still exceptionally warm on her small patio, even for June. Nathan and Severus were sitting side by side on the bench at the freshly oiled hardwood garden table, looking at the pictures in the children's book the wizard had brought over; she was on the opposite side of the table in a folding chair, watching them and listening. It was a book for young witches and wizards, the pictures moved and interacted with the reader. Nathan was fascinated both by the pictures and by the stories Severus Snape told him about them.

He was a good teacher, he had a way with words that made his lectures pleasant to listen to. His voice held no trace of the local accent, sounded more like expensive public school than Manchester comprehensive and stood in so stark a contrast to the poor condition of his house and to the shabbiness of his appearance at their first encounters that once again Lisa couldn't help wondering who this man was. With a little smile she noticed that like on the previous Sundays he had taken some care with his outward appearance. He had shaved and washed his hair and tied it back with what looked like a piece of shoestring, his black suit and dark green tie were at least ten years out of fashion, but in good condition and the suit fitted him well. So far he had revealed nothing about himself. He was ready to answer their questions about magic and wizards, but as soon as the conversation veered towards his own person, the shutters went down and he became vague and changed the topic. What was it he wanted to hide? Why had he chosen to become a recluse? What had caused his poor health?

Nat was unconcerned about the mysteries of his new friend, he regarded him with a fascinated mixture of awe and admiration...

"No, only Grawp is a real giant, although he is said to be rather small for his kind. Hagrid's mother was a giantess, his father was a normal wizard, so Hagrid is only, what? about three times as tall as a normal man. He lives in a cabin of his own within the Hogwarts grounds, close to the Forbidden Forest."

"The Forbidden Forest?" Nathan asked.

"Yes, students are not allowed to go there alone, hence the name. It is the place where all the magical creatures live. They mustn't be disturbed by students and some of them are very shy and shun contact with humans. Some even don't like humans very much and might become dangerous if they are not treated correctly. "

"But Hagrid goes there to look after them? He must be very brave."

"Yes, Hagrid has a way with all of them. I think he respects them, no matter how ugly they may look to the human eye, and they know it and respect him in turn. He also helps them when they are ill or injured."

"I think I like Hagrid."

"I think most people do," Snape answered with a little laugh.

"Tell me more about the Forbidden Forest, Mr Snape, please. Are there unicorns?"

"Yes, there are. But I'm not going to tell you more about them today. It's time for your practice."

"Oh no, Mr Snape, must I? Can't we leave it till next time?"

"Yes, I'm afraid you must and no, we can't, Nathan. You succeeded in controlling your magic once last Sunday, but we need to make sure that this wasn't just pure chance. So we need to practice again. Off you go, young man."

With an unwilling moan Nathan left his seat on the bench and went to stand next to his mother, facing his instructor.

"Now look at me, Nathan", Snape commanded, taking out his wand and pointing it at the boy, whose body was rigid with anticipation, teeth clenched, hands drawn into tight fists, as he stared back into the black eyes that would transmit the images and emotions he felt when being accosted by the bullies at school.

"Concentrate. Focus on the centre of your mind. No, don't close your eyes, boy, look at me, just focus. Find that centre, don't let it get out of hand, keep it together, keep it under control… focus, Nathan, focus, you can do better than this… concentrate…"

"I do concentrate," Nathan said through clenched teeth.

"No, you don't. You haven't even started yet. Focus, don't think of anything else. Focus!... And don't forget to breathe."

Nathan, quite red in the face, released the breath he had been holding. And suddenly the glasses on the table shattered and the juice carton burst, showering them all with the yellow liquid.

Nathan and his mother cried out in shock and the boy's shoulders drooped in disappointment. Snape cleared the mess with a casual sweep of his wand, repaired the glasses, collected them and put them under the bench, out of reach of Nathan's magical energy.

"You need to breathe, you can't hold your breath infinitely, Nathan," he commented dryly. "But you must try not to lose your concentration when breathing. Try again. On the count of three."

And they started anew, locking eyes, Nathan frowning in concentration.

"Breathe. Evenly and steadily. And focus, try to turn your mind away from the outside world, let it travel to the centre of your body, focus on your magical core."

Nathan did his best to follow Snape's instructions. He fought against the anger and frustration transmitted to him via the vivid images created by Snape's mind, he tried to block out the mockery and insults from the bullies and to keep calm. Withdrawing deeper and deeper into his body he could feel his magical energy, could almost touch it and make it stay where it was… An exceptionally vivid image of the bullies from year five advancing on him in the corner of the playground caused a surge of fear and his mother's chair collapsed.

She was in a heap on the brick floor, looking very pale, too shocked even to cry out. Nathan just stared at her, aghast, equally pale and close to tears.

Snape lowered his wand, half rising from the bench, looking at Lisa in concern.

"Are you alright?"

Lisa swallowed hard, moved her arms and legs tentatively and nodded.

"I think so, yes."

She scrambled to her feet, picking up the chair and putting it back in position.

"Severus, don't you think it's a bit much for Nat? Look at him, he's totally exhausted and frustrated. Is there no other way?"

"No, I'm afraid there isn't", Snape replied emphatically. "Handling magic isn't child's play. It needs plenty of practice. Ready to try it again, Nathan?"

Lisa sighed, sitting down in her chair again, while Nathan nodded bravely and positioned himself next to her.

"Right then. On the count of three."

And the images came again. Nathan concentrated on his breathing, tried to stay calm and focused, did his best not to be distracted by the panic the images created in his mind. And suddenly it was easy, it was as if he had found the button he needed to press and could decide simply not to press it. His breath came more easily, he even managed a little smile.

And then the images were gone, he only saw the intense black eyes of the man facing him from across the table.

"That's it, Nathan. Not bad."

The boy let out a long breath of relief and almost stumbled into his mother's arms. She drew him close, putting an arm around his shoulders and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Well done, Nat."

But the boy's eyes were on Snape, hoping for approval. The wizard pocketed his wand carefully before looking at Nathan and giving him one of his rare, reluctant smiles.

"Yes, well done indeed. Now as you know how to do it, Nathan, it will become easier for you with every try. You are a quick learner."

Nathan beamed with pride. Lisa sighed with relief and glanced at her watch.

"Right, Nat, half past six, time for dinner. Can you go and lay the table? I've prepared vegetable lasagne, it's in the oven and should be ready by now. I think we'd better go inside, it's getting cold out here. Will you stay, Severus?"

"No, thank you."

It had become some kind of ritual: Lisa always asking him to stay for dinner and he refusing and taking his leave immediately, as if he considered his job done and any further social interaction a waste of time. Although Lisa would have liked to talk to him on a more relaxed basis outside her son's lessons she knew that pressing him to stay would be futile and would only result in driving him away sooner. And God knew what the man ate, he certainly looked as if he could do with a decent meal now and then.

Snape pushed himself from his seat with the help of his cane and proceeded to get out from behind the table, when Lisa suddenly saw him grimace and sway and hold on to the edge of the table to support himself. His face was even paler than usual, little drops of perspiration appearing at his hairline.

"Severus? What is it?" Lisa had jumped from her chair, standing next to him, ready to offer help.

He shook his head slowly, taking deep breaths.

"Nothing," he said hoarsely. "Just… the practice… it takes its toll not only on Nathan but on me, too. I'm not as strong as I used to be and…" he trailed off, shaking his head again.

"Why don't you come inside, sit down and have dinner with us?"

"No, I need a potion. I must go home."

"I'm sure the potion can wait until you have rested and eaten. There's no need for you to hurry."

"I'm fine, just a bit worn out. I'm not hungry."

"Then I'll walk you home."

"That won't be necessary. I can manage."

"You don't look well, you shouldn't try to walk alone."

Shaking his head he pushed himself away from the table and walked a few halting steps towards the narrow gate that led from the small garden into the alley that ran behind the garden wall. They had agreed on going this way when visiting each other's houses, as Snape preferred not to make their regular meetings known to the entire street. He had not become any more open towards his other neighbours and was afraid that his acquaintance with Lisa and her son would become a topic of their gossip.

"Are you sure you can manage?" Lisa called after him.

"I'm fine", he replied, half turning his head and nodding once; and then he was gone. Lisa frowned, shaking her head, and muttered something like 'pigheaded mule' before starting to collect the cushions and carrying them inside. He had forgotten his book. She picked it up and thoughtfully turned it in her hands, smiling to herself…

Severus Snape collapsed onto the weather-beaten wooden bench next to his back door, closing his eyes, fighting against the dizziness and the nausea. Damn his body, damn his lack of strength! This practice session with Nathan had barely lasted for half an hour, the techniques he had used were very similar to the ones needed for Legilimency or Occlumency, something he had once, in the presence of the Dark Lord, been able to keep up for hours on end.

He concentrated on his breathing, trying to gather enough strength to manage the short distance to the kitchen where he kept his potions. He had to wait for another ten minutes before he dared get up and walk the few steps, steadying himself on the brick wall, the door jamb and the work top until he reached the right cupboard.

The potion was foremost in the cupboard, thank Merlin! He lifted the vial carefully, it was his last one, he couldn't risk dropping and breaking it, and downed the red liquid. Leaning on the worktop he waited for it to take effect, then he went into the living-room and slumped into his armchair. Letting his head fall back against the back, he closed his eyes, feeling the magical agents of the potion work their way through his body, feeling the nausea abate and a sensation of warmth and comfort envelope his body…

When he woke again the room was almost dark. Through the lighter rectangle of the window he could see that outside the light was fading fast. He must have slept for a solid two hours. And he also realized what had woken him: There was a knocking at his front door. Rubbing his eyes to drive away the drowsiness and disorientation he pulled out his wand and lit the candles. Then he stared towards the door. He had a very good idea who was outside. Blast that woman! What did she want now? With a sigh he pushed himself from his chair, taking a mental note that he felt much better, and limped towards the door, silently congratulating himself on a well-brewed, effective potion.

"Yes?" He pulled the door open. Of course. Lisa McGregor, carrying a book and a glass container.

"Hiya," she said, smiling her sheepish smile again. "I just wanted to make sure that you're alright. May I come in?"

For a moment he considered saying 'no' and shutting the door in her face. But he knew she would start knocking again, maybe call his name, the noise magnified by the still night air, filling the entire street, drawing the neighbours away from their TVs and towards their front windows. Better to let her in. So he stepped aside to let her pass.

"You've forgotten your book", she said when they were in the living-room. "I thought perhaps you'd like to have it back as soon as possible."

He nodded his acknowledgement and she put the book on the coffee table. They remained standing in the middle of the room awkwardly. He didn't intend to offer her a seat, he didn't want her to stay. He'd had enough company for one day, he wanted to be alone.

But Lisa made no move to leave. Instead she lifted the container.

"There was so much lasagne left, I brought you some. It's hot, I've put it in the microwave." She paused, eyeing him critically. "You don't look as if you have eaten and you still look far from well."

"My well-being is no concern of yours."

"But it is. After all, your condition was caused by Nat's lessons. And, thing is, Nat needs you. He's become so much more self-confident since you started teaching him. We can't let you become ill."

"I see. Well, you can rest assured, I'm fine and I'm not hungry."

"No, you're not fine. I'm a nurse, remember? I can tell if people just say they are fine without really being so. And you need to eat."

"I took a potion, I'm fine."

"A potion? I know nothing about potions, but I'm sure they are no substitute for a proper meal. This lasagne was made with fresh vegetables, it is excellent, even if I say so myself. It would be a pity to let it go cold again."

She held the container out to him. There was a lid on it, but he could smell the food, and suddenly his body was hit with the realisation that indeed he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. His mouth started to water and just as he decided to ignore the reaction and refuse the food, his stomach rumbled audibly.

"See?" she said triumphantly.

He grimaced in defeat, then couldn't help smiling.

"Alright then. Have your way. Let's go into the kitchen, there's a table," he said and led the way.

The kitchen furniture and fittings were authentic sixties, with a small Formica-topped table and three chairs in the far corner. Lisa put the container on the table and waited while he fetched some cutlery and a plate from the cupboard.

Then he sat down and helped himself to the lasagne. Lisa took one of the other chairs, watching him. He started to eat, slowly and reluctantly first, his unwillingness clearly expressed in the glances he shot her way now and then. But his appetite seemed to improve with eating, and fifteen minutes later he had finished all of the food.

Lisa grinned at him. "There's a good boy."

He scowled back.

Lisa sighed. "Look, I don't know anything about your medical condition, Severus, but ignoring the needs of your body isn't a good idea. Cooking and eating properly is important for one's well-being. Things like marmite sandwiches and beans on toast are well and good, but not on seven days a week."

He grimaced, but didn't say anything. She had unwittingly hit the bull's eye. Beans on toast indeed were a dietary staple of his. Quick and easy to make and filling. He couldn't be bothered with cooking elaborate meals from scratch.

Lisa collected her container and rose from her chair.

"Right. I don't want to make a big fuss or act like a know-it-all and tell you how to organize your life, but I really was worried when you nearly fainted after Nat's lesson. We can't risk you falling ill. As I said, Nat needs you, Severus. Take care of yourself, will you?"

He shrugged.

"Thanks for the food."

"No bother. Good-night, Severus."

"Good night."

She left through the back door and he stared after her through the kitchen window, although it was too dark outside to see anything.

'Nat needs you'. The words lingered in his head, triggering memories of long forgotten voices. 'Be careful, Severus. The Order needs you. I need you.' Dumbledore. How he had hated these words. 'Harry needs your help, he needs these lessons, you must overcome your aversion and continue.' Everyone needed him. Except it wasn't him, not the man Severus Snape, they needed, but his unique situation as a repentant Death Eater, his brains, his skills, his expertise. No one was interested in what this being needed cost him. No one asked what state he was in when he returned from the Death Eater meetings, what the constant use of Occlumency did to his sleep and his dreams, no one asked what it felt like to work alongside the bullies from his school-days in the Order, to have to meet them on a regular basis in this mausoleum of Dark Magic, the house of his worst tormentor.

When he had woken after the war, learning that there was indeed a life waiting for him to live, he had sworn never to let himself be needed again. And now? 'Nat needs you.' But it was different, wasn't it? There was nothing calculating and manipulating in the boy needing him. No hidden agenda. Strangely enough the boy and his mother seemed to really like him. As a natural legilimens he could sense people's emotions without actually activating the spell. Lisa's expression of concern appeared before his inner eye. Genuine concern for his well-being. She cared for him. And her concern seemed deeper than her light-hearted way of talking about it would admit. With Lisa and Nathan he didn't feel like a tool that would be discarded after use. 'Nat needs you.' Perhaps being needed wasn't so bad after all.

Snape caught himself smiling at the dark window. He snorted in contempt and turned away. No need to become all sentimental. Except that being needed didn't feel bad all of a sudden.


	10. Chapter 10

_Dear readers,_

_before you start wondering whether I'm still alive – here's the next chapter. I apologise to all of you who left reviews for the last one. I read them all, I loved them all, but I didn't get round to answering them. So here's a BIG THANK YOU to all reviewers and another one to those of you who included this story in their list of__ favourites__. Your support is very much appreciated._

_Leliha_

_The usual disclaimers apply – and off we go..._

**Chapter Ten**

Sunday evening, two weeks later. Lisa and Severus were standing at the narrow garden gate after a rainy afternoon spent unravelling the mysteries of the world of magic. A few brave rays of evening sunshine had managed to break through the clouds by now, transforming the raindrops on the shrubs next to the brick wall into glittering jewels. Snape was leaning on his walking stick, a plastic carrier bag dangling from his free hand. The bag contained a compromise: Having refused Lisa's offer to eat dinner with her and Nathan once again he had eventually, after some discussion and much insistence on her part, reluctantly agreed to accept some of the shepherd's pie and green salad to take home and eat in solitude.

Lisa watched him with professional concern. It had been obvious to her that the practice session with Nathan had been more intense than the one a fortnight before, with Snape challenging the boy with stronger images and emotions. Nathan had done well, breaking only two small flower pots with an uncontrolled outburst of his magical energy. His reward had been a reluctant 'acceptable', modified by 'but you can do better, you have to practice every day, you must learn to be always in control' from Severus, who had come prepared this time, bringing a potion vial with him and drinking it immediately after the practice while Nathan was being revived by his mother with an extra-large bowl of chocolate ice-cream.

So the wizard looked a bit pale and worn out now, but not as if he would faint any moment. Lisa still held the small, empty glass container she had collected from the dining table in her hand and sniffed it curiously.

"What did you say it was?"

"A modified version of the common Pepper-up-potion."

"A modified version…?" she echoed pensively, her curious frown asking for more information. Snape, still in teaching mode, was ready to oblige.

"The formula is my own invention, keeping the strengthening and invigorating properties of the original version and combining them with the soothing qualities of a calming draught, thereby reducing the tendency to cause restlessness and high blood pressure. One of the main ingredients of the potion is chili, that's where the colour comes from."

Lisa acknowledged the lecture with a smile.

"Pepper-up-potion? What a funny name."

"It's what people call it in everyday language; it's a very common potion. The textbooks refer to it as _potio piperata reficiendo_."

"I see. Does it have any side effects?"

"You may start feeling very thirsty half an hour after taking it, with some people it causes mild diarrhoea. But nothing serious."

"Potions", she said softly, shaking her head and turning the vial in her hands. "They seem to be so much more divers and effective than the medications we use. It must be fascinating to know how to create all kinds of effects by using a substance in a bottle or a jar. Do you have to be a wizard to make potions? Do you need magic?"

"Not necessarily, and certainly not for a harmless class A potion like this. Only the most potent and, of course, the Dark and dangerous ones require powerful magic. In most cases it's just the ingredients and the correct way of preparing and mixing them that make a potion effective."

"So even I could make potions?"

His mouth twitched.

"After several years of studying the art of potion making, yes, why not?" he replied dryly.

She gave a short laugh of surprise.

"Several years – oh my!"

"It's nothing you should dally with," he said gravely.

"Well, yes, I suppose. What a pity I haven't got the time."

Stoppering the vial she slipped it into the carrier bag while giving him a sidelong glance.

"I really would like to learn something about how potions are made, though," she continued wistfully.

He said nothing. Lisa waited, biting her lower lip and playing with one of her long silver earrings. When he showed no sign of reacting she took a deep breath.

"Severus…"

He raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

"I don't know if it is too much to ask for… but…"

She stopped, waiting, exhaling noisily, then started again.

"I mean, I really don't want to be impertinent, but…"

"Yes?" he prompted.

"I can understand if you say 'no', but…"

He lifted his arm in exasperation, giving the carrier bag a little shake.

"This bag is getting heavier by the minute; I would appreciate if you didn't make me stand here all night. What is it you want to ask?"

"Can I come over one day and watch when you're making potions?"

The sentence came out in a rush. Her cheeks had become very pink. He blinked in disbelief.

"Why would you want to do that?"

"To get an idea of what it is all about. I'm a nurse and I'm interested in everything concerning drugs and medicine."

"But potion making often takes hours and there's nothing to see, it's not a show, not exciting at all. Just cutting, mixing, stirring, waiting, more stirring, more waiting … you'll become bored."

"Still… I'd like to see it, I don't think it will be boring. There was a short chapter in the book you gave Nathan and…"

He snorted.

"I can't have Nathan," he said categorically, "children that young lack the patience and understanding for potion making."

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. Next time it's Nat's weekend with his Dad. His Dad is collecting him on Friday after school and bringing him back on Sunday evening. I'm on my own all weekend. I have to work the night shifts on Friday and Saturday, so I could come over one of these days in the afternoon… I mean, only if you plan to make potions then, of course and if you have time; and I promise I won't disturb you…please…"

She stopped, confused, and smiled her sheepish smile again.

Snape snorted once more. Brewing potions was a solitary art, only the production of the most complex ones required some assistance. And the solitude was what he had always liked about potion making, he had never been good at working in a team – and here the fleeting memory of himself and Lily Evans, the only partner he had been able to tolerate, working together in Slughorn's classes at school passed his mind and the pain made him wince inwardly… how pathetic, after all these years, he thought angrily and banished the image into the deepest pits of his consciousness – he preferred the peace and quiet of being on his own, he needed the concentration, especially if he was experimenting with new formulas. What he didn't need was someone breathing down his neck, getting in his way, asking stupid questions, making silly comments, engaging him in mindless, idle conversation. On the other hand he would have to replenish his supplies of pain potions in two weeks' time, a simple routine job which was boring and which he could do in his sleep. So it wouldn't be so much of a nuisance if Lisa came over and watched him…

"If you promise not to make a nuisance of yourself and pester me with silly questions", he heard himself say before his mind had reached the end of his inner debate.

Lisa smiled happily, her eyes sparkling like amber in the evening sun.

"Thank you so much. I'll stay in a corner, make myself invisible and won't say a word. Cross my heart!"

He grunted, staring at her doubtfully, wondering what he had got himself into.

"Come over on Saturday then, 2 o'clock and don't be late."

Without waiting for a further 'thank-you' he turned, opened the gate and limped away, heading for the security of his house.


	11. Chapter 11

the usual disclaimers apply

**Chapter Eleven**

"Here we are."

Snape slipped the last bottle into the wooden rack and removed his protective gloves.

Lisa arched her back, stretched and got up from the hard kitchen chair she had been sitting on for three long hours, watching her neighbour work on the potions, taking notes. Severus had acknowledged her notebook and biro with a raised eyebrow, but had treated her to a running commentary on his work, explaining the properties of the ingredients and the different steps of processing them, from cleaning and cutting to the right order of mixing and the proper way of stirring. Lisa had watched and listened carefully, admiring the ease with which he controlled the contents of three different pots – cauldrons, he had corrected her – bubbling over magically lit fires, preparing three different varieties of pain potion simultaneously.

Once or twice he had muttered a curse when the tremor of his hands interfered with the cutting and halfway through the brewing Lisa could tell from the way his shoulders sagged and his limp became more pronounced that the work was tiring him out. But she also knew perfectly well that he wouldn't want her to notice it or say anything about it, least of all to offer him her help.

While Severus was cleaning his cauldrons and tidying up the worktop with swift wand movements, putting away the jars and tins of ingredients into the cupboards, Lisa went over to the worktop, examining the batteries of glass vials, touching them tentatively with a cautious forefinger. They were still hot; Severus had told her that it was important to bottle and stopper the potions as hot as possible to prevent them from going off.

"This was a very interesting afternoon, Severus, thank you very much for letting me watch you."

He grunted a reply, putting away a last jar half-filled with a yellowish substance before turning towards her.

"You'd make a very good teacher, Severus, you can explain things very well."

For a moment his face clouded over and her finger froze in mid-movement.

"Sorry, have I said anything wrong?"

He shook his head, his lips pressed together in a thin line. Lisa decided not to pursue the topic any further and turned to neutral ground instead.

"I could do with a cup of tea," she sighed theatrically.

His mouth relaxed into a hesitant smile.

"So could I. And we'll do it the Muggle way, the taste is much better. Can you put the kettle on while I fetch the teabags?"

Five minutes later they were sitting at the kitchen table, cradling steaming mugs. Lisa thought it safe to steer the conversation back to the subject of potions.

"Will Nat learn to make potions at Hogwarts?"

He nodded slowly.

"Yes, all students do, at least up to their fifth year."

He paused, a faraway look in his eyes.

"But only few are talented, most of them aren't even interested. Many hate the subject, there is no boisterous, silly wand-waving, no instant results; work in the classroom tends to be quite messy and smelly and requires constant attention and concentration because if you make the smallest of mistakes the consequences can be disastrous."

She regarded him curiously. He seemed to have a special relationship with the subject. Had he been one of the few talented students? Or had he hated the subject at school and had developed the skills later in his life? Should she ask him? Well, why not, she could at least risk a try.

"Did you like the subject?"

"Yes."

And she could feel the shutters going down. The monosyllabic reply was the only answer she was going to get. Good heavens, talking to the man about anything concerning his personal life was like walking on egg-shells! Sighing inwardly she went back to potions and the world of magic in general.

"Do all wizards have to make their own potions or can you buy them ready-made, too?"

He laughed.

"You can buy them, of course. Given the skills young wizards show in their classes at school, half of the wizarding population would probably have already fallen victim to botched up potions if they had to rely on self-made potions,. There is an apothecary's shop in Diagon Alley which sells a wide range of potion products. But they are quite expensive and often of inferior quality."

Lisa's eyes went over to the rows of bottles, there were at least three dozens of them.

"Do you sell potions?" she asked curiously. She had often wondered what he did for a living.

He didn't answer at once, but looked at her closely for a long moment, making her feel uncomfortably transparent, before getting up and going over to the worktop. He pulled one of the bottles from the rack and handed it to her.

"No, I don't sell them; I'm giving this to you as a present."

Lisa accepted the small glass container with an incredulous smile.

"That's… that's very generous, Severus, thank you very much. But I'm not a witch… is it safe… I mean… am I allowed…?"

He laughed. "Since you're asking: Technically I'm not allowed to give it to you. It's illegal to give potions to Muggles."

"Illegal?"

"Yes, but as long as you don't tell to the Ministry… who cares."

"But… is it safe for me to take the potion if I'm not a witch?"

"Would I give it to you if it wasn't?"

"Eh… no, probably not."

"There you are."

"Then why is it illegal?"

He shrugged, grinning wryly.

"Because you can cause a lot of harm with potions. Then there is, as you know, the Statute of Secrecy. And, most important probably, the Muggle pharmaceutical firms have made a deal with the Ministry. You see, if magical potions were available in the Muggle world, nobody would buy Muggle drugs."

"Yes, that makes sense. Although I must say it's outrageous. If there are potions that could help where Muggle medication fails it's not fair to deny patients these remedies."

He shrugged, making it clear that he didn't consider it worthwhile to discuss the topic any further, and sat down again, taking a sip from his mug.

She let out a frustrated breath, turning the small bottle in her fingers.

"It's a painkiller, isn't it."

"Yes, a mild one, it should work nicely if you have a headache."

"Like aspirin or paracetamol?"

"Better."

"Oh."

"But mind you, it doesn't help against flu symptoms. There are no antiphlogistic properties."

"More like morphine then?"

"Basically, but less potent and you don't risk getting addicted or having hallucinations."

"These other bottles", she pointed at the racks on the left hand side of the worktop, "are they stronger?"

"Yes."

He opened a drawer in the table, taking out a notebook and a pencil and writing something down. Lisa watched him, wondering if she should speak out what was on her mind. She was biting her lips, unable to decide, listening to the soft scratching noise of the pencil.

Suddenly he dropped the pencil, looking up.

"What?" he spat.

"Severus…" she hesitated, her eyes wandering from his scowling face to the rows of bottles, "if you don't sell these potions… you said they should be used within a month… does that mean that you take them all yourself?"

The silence stretched between them, making Lisa finally turn her eyes away from the bottles and look at him. His face was unreadable when their eyes met. He gave a curt nod.

"But then… oh my God, you… you practically live on potions."

He shrugged, opened the drawer again and put the notebook away, closing the drawer with unnecessary vehemence. Then he got up and went over to the worktop, straightening the bottles.

She stared at his back helplessly, calling to her mind everything she knew about chronic pain. It wasn't very much. Working in the emergency department acute pain was what she usually had to deal with. She knew, however, that there were teams of doctors, nurses and physiotherapists specializing in treating patients with chronic pain, trying to give them some relief. Didn't they have something like this in the magical world? From Nathan's lessons she knew that there was a magical hospital and that their doctors were called healers, surely they would know about a way to deal with pain other than ingesting self-made potions by the litre. They were wizards, for God's sake, they could use magic, it should not be a problem. She swallowed and addressed his stiff back.

"If you are in pain all the time, isn't there anything else you can do? These potions must have side-effects, all drugs do. It can't be good for your stomach lining and your digestion if you take them on a daily basis, not to mention the risk of dependency. Don't tell me there isn't one. How often did you have to increase the dose in the past seven years?"

She snorted with disapproving satisfaction when he didn't answer.

"Isn't there some other kind of magic you can use… some, eh, spell?"

He turned to face her with an impatient groan.

"No, there isn't."

"But… with magic…?"

His fist came down on the worktop, making the bottles rattle.

"Stop it! Stop being an interfering nuisance, for Merlin's sake!"

He exhaled noisily.

"Listen. You can heal with magic, and in most cases it is much easier, quicker and more effective than Muggle methods. But you can also harm with magic and the wounds thus inflicted are often extremely severe and may also be cursed so that they don't respond to any kind of treatment, be it Muggle or magical."

She swallowed hard, her eyes locked with his intense black ones.

"Your… condition was caused by magic then?"

"Yes."

"Bad magic?"

"Dark magic. Extremely malevolent dark magic."

"And the healers…"

"Worked wonders just to keep me alive. I wasn't meant to survive."

"Who hated you so much?"

Her eyes searched his face, looking for some clue that could help her understand the situation. But he wasn't willing to give her one. Her questioning gaze was met by a solid, blank wall of black.

Finally he turned his head away and shrugged.

"Someone who was driven by immense hatred and by contempt for mankind in general."

"A psychopath? Who was it? A wizard?"

He shook his head.

"Muggle, wizard, monster – it doesn't matter. He's dead."

"But you… you're alive and if you are in constant pain… how do you cope? Have you really tried everything? Has it ever occurred to you that our, I mean… Muggle methods could help you?"

He gave a short, mirthless laugh, shaking his head. Lisa didn't give up.

"Physiotherapy for example?"

Meeting her eager face with a tired frown he said softly, "Just give it a rest, will you?"

"But…"

"No buts. I've managed quite well for the past seven years. I don't want anybody meddle with my life and I don't want some interfering know-it-all tell me what to do with my body."

She stared at him, speechless. There were so many things she wanted to say, so many arguments she wanted to use to make him see sense – but his words and his expression left no doubt that he wouldn't want to listen, that he probably wouldn't think twice about throwing her out of his house if she tried to reason with him, that he would stop Nathan's lessons if she didn't leave him alone. So she only sighed in frustration.

"Right. OK. I'm sorry, being an interfering know-it-all concerning other people's health is an occupational hazard, I'm afraid."

He gave a shrug, his eyes still angry, his posture stiff and forbidding, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Lisa got up and raised her hand as if reaching out for him, but on second thoughts let it fall back at her side. She didn't want to go now, with so many unspoken words between them; however, she had no idea how to get out of this situation without making things worse. Better to leave him alone. There was always the tiny bit of hope that her advice had set something in motion, that he would see reason.

"So… I'll better be on my way now, I have to be at the hospital at seven. Thanks for letting me come and watch you and thanks for the potion."

"You're welcome", he replied stiffly and walked her the few steps to the garden gate in silence.

Then he returned to the kitchen and closed his back door slowly, his thoughts elsewhere. Walking over to the table he flopped down on his chair, pushing his half-finished mug of lukewarm tea towards the centre of the table. Interfering, irritating woman. When would she understand that his life and his health weren't her business? He could only hope that he had made himself clear today, that she would accept the fact that he didn't want her to meddle. Physiotherapy! Ridiculous. 'Potions must be bad for your stomach lining'. Ha! Who did she think she was? His mother? Except his mother had never cared about his stomach. She had been wallowing too deeply in her own misery to bother about what her unwanted son did or what he ate, or if he ate at all. Had she ever, with or without magic, cooked a meal from scratch? He couldn't remember. The memories he had of his childhood meals were about tinned peas a lurid shade of green, soggy chips and limp fish fingers. There had rarely been fresh food in the house… Food...

He suddenly realized that he felt hungry. Food. Yes, of course. He remembered something and in spite of his irritation he couldn't help smiling to himself as he rose from his chair and went to the fridge. There was a plastic container with parsnip soup waiting for him. A gift Lisa had brought with her and had put in the fridge directly on her arrival, without even asking him. He sighed, shaking his head. Insufferable woman though she was, he couldn't but admire her persistence. Whatever he said, however vehemently he protested, she just continued caring for him in her quiet, stubborn way, claiming that she was doing it in return for Nathan's lessons. How very extraordinary and almost unbelievable.

He poured some of the soup into a bowl and heated it with his wand, savouring the smell that started to rise from it and made his mouth water. He found some bread in a bag. It had become moldy at one end, but he decided it would be good enough if he cut away the green bits. Lisa wouldn't agree, of course. He snorted, deliberately turning his mind away from the woman. Taking a spoon from the drawer he sat down to eat. The soup was good, hot, creamy. Comfort food – he had read the term once and wondered what it was supposed to be. Now he knew. A subtle warmth was spreading inside him and made him relax; but in spite of what he wanted himself to believe he knew he couldn't be sure that it was only due to the soup…

On Sunday evening he saw Nathan's father. Snape had been in his living-room, looking up some obscure formulas for tinctures to use on ingrown toenails, when he heard the noise of a car pulling up at the kerb outside. He was familiar with the sound of Lisa's Astra, with the wheezing, stumbling motor of the ancient Golf of the couple living in the house next to her and with the soft purr of the brand new Saab owned by the family on the opposite side of the street. This was an unfamiliar vehicle. A more sonorous, more expensive sound, one that was rarely heard in Spinner's End.

Curiously he got up from the sofa and went to the window. A sleek silver sports car. He congratulated himself on his auditory discriminiation skills and waited, curious about whom the car belonged to. The door on the passenger side opened and out climbed Nathan. Ah. Nathan's Dad then, Lisa's ex-husband.

Snape leaned closer towards the curtain and squinted to get a better look at the driver, who now followed Nathan. A Roman patrician, was the first simile that came to Snape's mind. Dark, curly hair going gray at the temples, a chiseled face and a perfect tan. Snowy white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and artfully faded designer jeans. A man radiating self-confidence in spades. It was not hard to see why women fell for him. Snape knew at once that he disliked the man. Nathan, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy his company, chatting to his father happily, pointing at the other houses in the street. Snape stiffened. Had the boy told his father anything about him or about magic? But the man gave Snape's house only the briefest of disgusted glimpses before fetching Nathan's rucksack from the boot and knocking on Lisa's door.

The door opened and Lisa appeared, wearing cut-off jeans and a blue t-shirt. She greeted her ex-husband with a cool nod and took Nathan's rucksack. Nathan and his father parted with an exaggerated high-five, which made Snape cringe. He could sense, even from the distance, that Lisa shared his feelings. Nathan vanished into the house. Lisa and the man exchanged a few words; at one time both of them looked over at Snape's house. The man said something, shaking his head and laughing loudly. Lisa shrugged non-committally. Then they said good-bye, the car door slammed shut, the motor was started, the car glided away from the kerb and then it was gone. Lisa looked over at Snape's house again. Did she guess that he had witnessed the scene? Was there a knowing smile on her face? He stood perfectly still as he watched her go into the house and close the door.

In two weeks' time he would see Nathan again. And his mother. Two weeks, fourteen days, 326 hours. A long time.


	12. Chapter 12

_Once again I must use this general way of expressing my appreciation of all the reviews I have received. Thank you all so much. Two more crazy weeks to go and then I'll hopefully have a bit more time to spend on writing the next chapters and on answering reviews._

_The usual disclaimers apply._

**Chapter twelve**

"Each wand is different?"

Nathan examined the slender wooden stick, turning it in his fingers reverently.

"No, not quite. There are always a number of wands of the same batch, made from the same kind of wood, maybe from the same tree even, and with the same kind of magical core, for example a hair from a unicorn's tail or a string made from dragon gut, so there may be a couple of wands around that are technically identical to mine. But this is where the strong connection between wand and wizard enters; it is generally known that the wand chooses the wizard, and in turn the wand is imprinted by the wizard's personality and by the magic that has been performed with it and thus becomes unique. Therefore a wand that was made from exactly the same materials as mine may now – after thirty years of being in use – still look identical, but its character has become entirely different, because its owner is a different person and has certainly used it under completely different circumstances and for completely different spells…"

Snape paused, staring past Nathan's shoulder with unseeing eyes, absent-mindedly tapping his lips with his forefinger. Nathan waited, watching him, until his patience ran out and he started opening and closing books at random, stacking them in a tottering pile, hoping to wake Snape from his reverie. But only when the books toppled and one of them fell to the floor did Snape blink and clear his throat, giving Nathan the wry ghost of a smile.

"Wand-lore is a very complex subject, there are only about four reliable wand-makers in Europe."

"Only four?" Nathan's eyes were wide with wonder. "And one of them is in England?"

Snape nodded. "Ollivander's in Diagon Alley. That's where you are going to buy your wand before you go to Hogwarts."

"A wand that chooses me?"

"Yes."

"Wicked."

Nathan smiled in happy anticipation. Severus smiled back, the lapse into his dark reminiscences forgotten. If someone had told him a year ago that he would enjoy spending his Sunday afternoons in the company of a ten year old boy and his mother, that he would look forward to teaching the boy, Snape would have replied with a few well-chosen, scathing words concerning the state of mind of said someone. But now he couldn't but admit that he felt comfortable in the company of Nathan and his mother, and that he actually enjoyed teaching; so much so that he had even been able to shed his armour in the course of the weeks.

In need of some new pairs of underpants he had discovered the non-food section of the supermarket. Looking around he had accidentally stumbled upon a special offer of jeans and, on a whim, had tried them on and finally bought two pairs. Despite being cheap they were of good quality and fitted him well. Once started it had somehow seemed a good idea to continue. Jumpers and shirts had followed during his next shopping trips, and he had systematically cleared out his father's wardrobe, replacing the most worn and most ill-fitting items by new ones. He felt good in his new outfits, he – although he would never have admitted it to anybody, not even to himself – rather liked his more fashionable reflection in the bedroom mirror and decided that instead of his Muggle suit he would wear his new pair of black jeans and his new gray jumper for the Sunday lessons. Lisa hadn't said anything when he turned up dressed like that, but her warm smile had told him that she approved of his appearance and since then the suit had stayed in the wardrobe...

Lisa returned from the kitchen, carrying the usual Sunday afternoon tray with tea, orange juice and lemon cake. Arranging everything on the table she watched her son with a proud mother's smile. He had grown considerably in the past months and was now almost the same height as his mother, but this growth included more than what could be measured in inches. Nat had become much less timid and shy, he wasn't afraid of going to school any more, he had made some friends among the boys in his class. She would never forget what his form teacher, his spectacles flashing with pride, had told her at the last parents' day:

"_Well, Mrs McGregor, it is absolutely amazing. Nathan's work has improved tremendously during the last two terms, it is a pleasure to have him in class. It's not only his marks that have become much better, he has also become so much more self-confident and, well, hm, how shall I put it… less difficult… or…well, more…eh… normal, if you excuse my saying so. What I mean is that there have been no more inexplicable incidents with flying books and so on. And I always suspected that he was being bullied by some of our bigger boys, although he never complained and none of his teachers actually saw it happen, which of course made it difficult for us to do something about it, if you know, what I mean, but now I think this problem has ceased to exist."_

_Lisa had smiled back across the desk, feeling lightheaded with joy and relief. Parents' day at Nat's school had always been something she had dreaded, but at this one she had only received positive news about her son. The teachers had put it down to the latest school reform, waxing enthusiastically about 'deep learning' and 'commitment' and 'deep leadership'. Lisa had produced all the signs of listening politely, while in reality she wasn't paying much attention to the words, knowing perfectly well who and what was responsible for her son's positive development…_

"How much is a wand?" she asked, eyeing Severus' specimen skeptically. The dark wood looked expensive, was it ebony? And what was that about 'magical cores'? Surely they couldn't be found at the roadside. Maybe she would have to start putting by some money for Nat's wand.

"First wands are subsidized by the ministry so as to make them affordable to all students. Therefore even the most extravagant ones should not be more than 50 £, I think."

Lisa nodded and let out a small breath of relief.

"What if I lose the wand or break it?" Nathan asked after his mother had put everything on the table.

"You should take care not to" Snape answered dryly. "First wands are special, nobody knows the reason why, but there is plenty of evidence for it. Replacements are said to be less reliable and if you have to buy a new one you must pay the full price and that can be quite high."

Gently but firmly he pulled his wand from Nathan's inquisitive fingers.

"Wizards usually look after their wands very carefully, they never let them out of their sight and always carry them on their bodies. A wand is a wizard's most cherished possession, having it confiscated and snapped in two is one of the hardest punishments in the wizarding world. A wand is the most versatile tool in the world, it can be used both as a harmless cooking spoon and as a deadly weapon, almost all the magical activities are performed with a wand."

"But you don't need a wand to do magic?"

"No, Nathan, you don't, as you know very well, because what you did before you learnt to control it was wandless magic. Some people are very good at it, they don't need a wand for focusing. But this talent is very rare and there is always the risk that the magic thus produced is somewhat erratic."

"Can you do wandless spells?"

"A little."

"Can you show me? Can I try it, too?"

Snape looked at the eager, shining eyes and smiled.

"Well, yes, I suppose I can show you. And as you are with me you may risk a try. But on no account should you do it on your own, Nathan, remember that," he added strictly.

Nathan nodded quietly.

"Why don't you two go outside," Lisa piped up, looking around her living-room meaningfully. "No offense meant, Severus, but I would rather not have you break anything with your erratic magic."

Snape stared at her, bristling, opening his mouth for a suitable reprimand. What did she take him for? He was perfectly able to control his wandless magic so as not to break anything, and he certainly would make sure that the boy didn't either; but as always, her sheepish smile disarmed him and he swallowed his reply. A bit of fresh air would do them good anyway.

So he got up, fetched the jackets from the rack in the little hall and motioned Nathan to follow him into the garden.

Lisa waited until they had left the kitchen, then she closed the shutters and suddenly became very hectic, opening cupboards, pulling out pots, opening the fridge, arranging ingredients on the worktop, hoping that her son would know what to do to keep his tutor busy so that they wouldn't return before she had prepared everything…

It was more than half an hour later and already dark outside, when they came back, laughing, smelling of November fog, hair damp and cheeks reddened.

"Did you see how I made the stone bounce like a rubber ball? It was great, wasn't it? Boing, boing, boing… it was so wicked, Mum!" Nathan imitated the stone's bouncing with his arm. Snape's lips twitched into a quick, indulgent smile.

"Just remember not to do it when you're alone, Nathan," he repeated sternly. "Promise."

Nathan answered with a solemn nod.

In the kitchen the delicious smell of food had intensified. Lisa looked very hot and slightly out of breath. Snape gave her a quizzical look, but said nothing as she waved him through into the living-room.

"Oh," he said softly, stopping in the doorway.

The overhead lights were switched off, the room was only lit by the soft glow of the standard lamp, a large paper cone, in the corner and three slender red candles in silver holders on the dining table. The table had been set festively, a snowy-white tablecloth, gleaming glasses and cutlery.

"Are you having a dinner party tonight," he asked, "are you expecting guests?"

"I'm having a dinner party, but my guest is already here," Lisa said, taking hold of the jacket he had half shrugged out of, thus making him remove it completely. He noticed mother and son share a conspiratorial smile and rolled his eyes.

"How often do I have to…" he started to protest.

"Severus, wait," Lisa said, putting a calming hand on his arm, her touch making him freeze instantly. "Listen. This is different. This is not a normal dinner. I'd like to say thank you for what you have done for Nathan and me. It has changed our lives, I don't have to worry about Nat's school work any longer, you should have heard his teacher, he spoke in such high terms about Nat's performance at school, I almost burst with pride on parents' day last week. And it's all due to your lessons. I'm so grateful, Severus, and I want to show you. I know that I'll never be able to pay you back for what you're doing. So… please accept this, stay for dinner tonight, I've made something special…"

"We'll have Mum's special pudding," Nat piped up, "trifle!"

"Trifle," Snape repeated weakly, looking from mother to son, immobilized by Lisa's hand on his arm, feeling its gentle warmth against his skin. He realized that his breathing was fast and shallow and he had to concentrate hard to control it. He was completely out of his depth. He could sense the sympathy they felt for him, and was overwhelmed by the sensation. Hatred he knew, and envy and disgust and derision – these were the things he had learned to deal with – but affection? To his immense horror he felt his face grow hot and hoped that it would remain unnoticed in the dim light of the room.

And all of a sudden he knew that he couldn't keep up his resistance any more. Sympathy – it was something he had longed for throughout the earlier part of his life, something he had longed for in vain, until in the end he had learned to accept that it would never come his way; and now, when he was offered symapthy so unconditionally – which was totally unexpected and almost impossible to believe – he should stop dithering and simply accept it. He should finally allow his old defensive walls to crumble, he should let himself sink into the warmth of their affection and relish every ounce of it…

It felt like a dream. Sitting down at the table, the fine tableware, the candlelight, the wine, the food. The conversation with Lisa and her son. About Nathan's school and his friends, about the other people in Spinner's End, about the town council's plans to turn the remains of the old mill into a museum and its grounds into a park, about magic and Muggles… Nathan was sent to bed at 9 o'clock and then it was just him and Lisa, and the talking continued, simple and easy amidst intervals of companionable silence…

It was almost midnight when Severus returned to his own house, full of wine and food and talk, feeling like he had never before felt in his life. Relaxed, content, warm – happy, yes, just happy. He locked his backdoor and went through the kitchen into the living room, lighting the candles. More than ever before the contrast between Lisa's house and his own hit him like a blow with an axe and sobered him instantly. How could he have lived in this house for years and years without doing anything against its slow dereliction? It had become a miserable hovel, unfit for a human dwelling. It had never been in a good condition to start with, even when Severus had been a small child; his father had never got round to doing more than just the most basic repairs, his mother had never wanted to be bothered with housework, an attitude which, in turn, had driven his father mad and had made him stay away from home as often as possible. And after inheriting the property Severus had always considered it a burden, had seen the house as a constant reminder of his miserable childhood and had never spent more than a few unwilling weeks every year there, ignoring its state. So now, after decades of neglect, it was a dump, an ugly blot on the pristine row of houses in the street.

He had been living here permanently for almost eight years now, why had he never seen how bad it was? No, that was wrong. He had seen it, but it had never bothered him. A miserable dwelling for a miserable wizard who would spend the miserable years of the rest of his miserable life hiding from a hostile world. It had seemed right. But not any more. Things had changed. The world, all least a small part of it, had proved not to be hostile at all. Life had become a little bit worth living and this in turn called for a decent place to live in. He couldn't go on like this, he would have to do something about this house. Get rid of the old, worm-infested furniture, rip out the old carpet and wallpaper, paint the walls. He could even build a bathroom. It could be done with magic, he knew there were spells, he would have to look them up and learn them. Maybe he could practise with the attic, where nobody would see if things didn't work out at first.

Or maybe he could ask somebody for advice. But who? Arthur Weasley was the only wizard he knew who had been enthusiastic about DIY – both Muggle and magical – and had always been building extensions or putting up and pulling down walls in this old house of his, adjusting it to the needs of his ever-growing family. Severeus snorted with reminiscences. Arthur had been able to bore people to death by waxing enthusiastically about the advantages or disadvantages of electric Muggle screw-drivers or drills as compared to spells and wands, the wizarding tools.

But although the Weasleys had belonged to the small group of wizards who had always been polite, even kind towards him, Severus was loath to contact them. He had not seen them for more than seven years, he couldn't just apparate to their village, knock on their door and ask for advice. They were friendly, they would hide their surprise, invite him in, listen to his request and oblige, of course, but they would most certainly also tell others, the news would spread like wildfire, he would become the laughing stock of the wizarding world. Severus Snape, the formidable potions master, the former DeathEater, trying to refurbish his miserable house with his own hands. Hilarious. No, he couldn't have that, better to get some books and figure things out on his own. They were selling books at his supermarket, he would try to find a Muggle book next Friday, and on his next visit to Diagon Alley he would have a look around Flourish and Blott's and...

Suddenly remembering something, Snape shrugged out of his jacket and sat down in his armchair by the fireplace, reaching for the _Daily Prophet_ he had been reading earlier in the day. Since he had started teaching Nathan he had renewed his subscription, considering it necessary to know what was going on in the wizarding community. He leafed through the paper impatiently, scanning the pages, until he came to the one he had been looking for. Yes, there it was. A certain Banquo Obison, Ministry official, clever DIY enthusiast and hobby writer had published a new book called 'The DIY-wizard – how to improve your home with a whisk of your wand'. The headline – 'handy advice for the unhandy' – had caught Severus' eye this morning and he had snorted at it – in his opinion the book was just a waste of paper and ink. But now he read the review with more interest. The author was very much impressed both by the practicable advice and by the writing skills of Mr Obison. Perhaps this was the book he should use. The review said it offered plenty of help to wizards with little or no previous knowledge of building and painting. Good, very good. Exactly what he needed.

With a deep sigh of contentment, he rose from his chair, extinguished the candles and went into the kitchen to take his dose of pain potion for the night, brush his teeth and then go to bed.


	13. Chapter 13

_A big and heartfelt 'thank-you' to all of you who are still reading this story and especially to those wonderful people who keep sending reviews. I appreciate them very much and I promise I'll answer them when I get back from my holidays at the end of next week._

_Leliha_

_And now…_

_The usual disclaimers apply_

**Chapter thirteen**

"This is brilliant. I love magic!" Lisa laughed, sitting down on the topmost step of her step ladder, small paintbrush in hand, taking a short break from her task of filling in the places in the corners which Snape's large paint roller had missed. Fascinated, she watched this paint roller working on the opposite wall, directed by Severus' wand. The wizard was sitting on a cardboard box full of books in the middle of the room, frowning with concentration, moving his wand in very much the same way a conductor would move his baton. He replied with a quick smile in Lisa's direction, quite pleased with himself.

First he had considered doing the painting the Muggle way (surely moving a paint roller up and down a wall was child's play, wasn't it?), but had soon realised that his maimed body sadly lacked the strength and fitness necessary for the job. So he had proceeded to the magical option, bought the book by Banquo Obison and set to work. It had taken him long, hard weeks of practice in the attic to learn how to control the paint roller with his wand, how to create an even coat of paint on the wall and keep the paint from dripping all over the place. It had taken him another two weeks to acquire the knack of turning the pot of ordinary white Muggle paint the exact shade of colour he intended to have and of charming it, so that a single pot would yield the exact amount of paint needed for all the walls of a room or of an entire house. During these weeks he had often been on the brink of throwing the paint pot out of the window in frustration. Apart from his physical handicaps, he was still a capable, fully trained, powerful, highly intelligent wizard, damn it, why did it take him so long to learn the simple skills of a handyman?

But Severus Snape was not a man who gave in easily. He had continued practicing with stubborn determination day in, day out, until he had been sure he would be able to paint the downstairs rooms without any accidents.

On one of his Sunday visits to the McGregors he had overlooked some spots of dried paint (lime green) in his hair. Lisa, of course, had noticed them and become curious. Reluctantly he had told her about his plans and to his surprise it had turned out that his neighbour was not only enthusiastic about his idea, but also loved decorating and declared herself to be quite good with a paintbrush. So they had agreed to tackle the painting of his living-room together.

"You know, being a Muggle, I must say this isn't fair", Lisa remarked after they had finished the last wall and she was wiping the splashes of paint from her hands with a rag. "To do all this", she waved the rag around the room, admiring the bluish-green splendour of the walls, "it took us only one hour and a half. Without magic we would have needed almost an entire day. And on top of that you can clean away the mess, put the shelves back and fill them with your books with a few flicks of your wand. Let's say another thirty minutes for what would be half a day of back-breaking work for me. It simply isn't fair."

Severus cleaned the paint roller with a flick of his wand and smirked, settling more comfortably on his box.

"I admit there are some good sides to magic."

"Definitely. And after today's work I'm one step closer to believing that there really is something like magic."

Snape snorted.

"Mum!" Nathan piped up from the floor where he was removing masking tape from the skirting board.

"I know about everything he's been teaching you, Nat. But still – it's hard to believe that all these things are real if you only see them in the pictures in your books – even if these pictures are moving. Goblins, unicorns, giants, hypogribs…"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Hippogryffs, Lisa, they are a crossbreed of horses and griffins, hence the name."

"Yes. Right. Thank you. Anyway, what you're telling Nathan about the wizarding world often sounds like fairy tales to me", Lisa said with a small sigh. "It's all too fantastic to be real."

"It is real."

She sighed.

"So it seems. But still… what you said about the magical creatures and about the all-wizarding villages or this place in London – I simply can't see how they can exist without anybody of us non-wizards knowing. I mean, you can't just hide a complete village or a part of London from the majority of the population, can you?"

He gave a shrug.

"Yes, you can – if you are a wizard."

"Hm. You know, I'd really love to see one of these places with my own eyes. Perhaps then it would be easier to understand that everything is real. Hogwarts for example… if Nat goes there…"

"You can't. It's too heavily warded against Muggles, and, as a matter of fact, against visitors in general. Student security, you know. Usually parents, both wizards and Muggles, only go there when they receive a special invitation by the headmaster, which happens mostly in cases of emergency."

"I see, so there are no parents' days?"

"No. At least there weren't any. I don't know if they have introduced such things in the last seven years."

"What about this village then… Hogsmead, or the place in London… eh…Tangent Alley…?"

He shot her a long-suffering glance.

"Diagon Alley."

"Right, sorry, Diagon Alley. So what about it?"

He didn't reply, but turned his head away instead, studying the few congealing blobs of green paint in the empty pot. 'So what about it?' He had known that this moment would come sooner or later. Now it had come sooner rather than later and he realized that he wasn't prepared. So far he had always managed to avoid answering Lisa's questions about his past, no matter how skillfully she had asked them. Taking her to a place like Diagon Alley, with plenty of wizards around, would inevitably give her some insight in his standing in the wizarding society, would change her perception of him, would affect their relationship, would probably result in her refusing to have anything to do with him anymore.

Well… did it matter? Did he need their relationship to continue? Did he need Lisa and her son in his life? No, he didn't, he had always been… Oh, for Merlin's sake! Damn it! Yes, yes! He needed them! They made his life worth living! Being accepted felt so good. He couldn't destroy everything, he couldn't let them know about his past, about what he had done, who he had been.

But then – so far both of them had accepted him, the cripple, with all his oddities and despite his unpleasant personality. They seemed to like him, they had become… friends. Was it conceivable that their friendship would endure the information about of his past? And there was the fact that Nathan needed him, as Lisa was very well aware of. Perhaps she would keep up the contact because of her son's lessons. And one day they would learn anyway, as soon as Nathan would go to Hogwarts. There was no way around it. So, was it reasonable to postpone the inevitable? Wouldn't it be better to take the plunge and get it over and done with and hope for the best?

Lisa and Nathan watched him in silence, not daring to interrupt his musings. They had become used to these phases of inner debate. Finally he came to a decision, straightening himself, giving Lisa one of his intense glances.

"Diagon Alley could be done, I suppose, it is open to Muggles with auxiliary status," he said slowly, as if forcing each syllable into existence, as if speaking against his better judgment.

"So we could go there?"

"Well… you wouldn't know how to get there in the first place. Muggle parents usually receive the relevant information when their children are due to go to Hogwarts so that they can buy books and robes. I don't know if the Ministry is willing to offer preliminary permission… "

"Can't you take us there?"

He gave a non-committal shrug.

"Oh, yes, we could go on a weekend!" cried Nathan, jumping up with excitement, trying to disentangle his fingers from the masking tape.

Snape rubbed his chin with his hand, producing the rasping sound of two day old bristles.

"No, Nathan, sorry, but I can only take one of you."

"Why?"

He snorted. "Because it will be hard enough answering all the curious questions of one of you at a time. I'm not a tourist guide."

"No problem, you can take me and Mum'll stay at home."

"No,Nathan, I'd prefer taking your mother first."

"But why? Mum is only a Muggle…"

"Nathan!" Snape's voice had changed completely, sounding deadly cold and dangerously furious at the same time. Lisa froze and stared at him. She had never seen him like this.

"Don't you ever say 'only a Muggle', boy. Don't you ever think that wizards are in any way superior to Muggles."

Nathan swallowed hard to hold back the tears and raised his hands, fingers still entangled in masking tape, in defence.

"I didn't want to say that I'm superior, did I? It's just that…I mean… I am a wizard and it's me that will have to live among wizards, so it's important for me to know everything, isn't it?"

"It's just as important for your Mum to know. If she goes there first she can tell you about it and you can come prepared for your own visit and notice things you would have overlooked otherwise."

Nathan twisted the tape between his fingers, sulking.

His mother put the small paintbrush next to the paint roller very carefully, so that the handles were exactly parallel to each other and joined her son on the floor.

"Listen, Nat. You know that I have always chores to do in the house on Saturdays and very often you have to complete some homework over the weekend. So it isn't a good idea to go away for an entire weekend during term time. And in the Christmas holidays your Dad is taking you to Florida, remember? So we can't go together then, either. What if Severus and I go after Christmas and you can go with him at half-term? I mean, if that's OK with you, Severus?"

Snape nodded.

"I have some business to do in Diagon Alley from time to time anyway."

Nathan shrugged and continued pulling away the masking tape. His mother patted him on the shoulder and got up from the floor.

"So that's OK then," she said, looking at Severus. "We'd better find somewhere to spend the night in London, I think. Is there a hotel in Diagon Alley? I don't want to drive all the way to London and back in one day."

"You don't have to drive. With magic it will take us only a few seconds to get there."

"A few seconds? You mean through the fireplace? This floo-thing?"

"No, I don't. You can't use the floo-network because you are a Muggle, and I don't like it. Too messy and not always accurate; if you don't pronounce your destination very distinctly you may end up somewhere completely different. There are better means of transport."

"Broomsticks?" she asked, laughing, meaning it as a joke. He nodded, his face completely serious.

"Broomsticks, yes, of course, but riding on a broomstick is not the fastest way to travel and can be rather uncomfortable, especially in winter. Besides, I'm no longer able to fly."

She stared at him for a long, speechless second.

"Eh… I didn't actually… right, yes, I see. So what…?"

"We can apparate."

"Apparate. Ah. OK, if you say so. And how does that work?"

He exhaled noisily. "It's hard to explain. Basically it's vanishing in one place and appearing somewhere else. You'll see how it works."

"Vanishing and appearing?" She sounded doubtful.

"It's not dangerous at all if you are with an experienced wizard."

"Like you?"

"Like me."

"Very well then. Let's apparate. I'm really looking forward to it."

He shrugged.

"Be careful, actually, you may not like it very much. Apparition is considered quite unpleasant by some people."

"I'm looking forward to seeing Diagon Alley, Severus. This vanishing and appearing trick I'm rather apprehensive about."

"Diagon Alley? Don't let your expectations get too high. It's only a street with shops."

"Oh, Severus, don't be such a kill-joy. It's a place most people can't even see and the shops are magical ones. And there are wizards and goblins and…."

He grimaced.

"It's agreed then. After Christmas," he said with an air of finality, cleaning the paint pot with a sweep of his wand, glad about the few weeks of reprieve.


	14. Chapter 14

_The usual disclaimers apply._

**Chapter Fourteen**

Severus Snape was pacing in front of his living-room window. Four steps towards the door, turn, four steps towards the bookshelf, turn, two steps towards the door, a brief glimpse through the Venetian blind that had replaced the old net curtain, two steps towards the door, turn, four steps towards the bookshelf, turn, pause, four steps towards the door…

She would arrive any minute now, everything was ready… He took a deep breath, peering through the blind again, watching out for the beams of the headlights of the familiar Astra to brighten the orange glow of the street lamp. But so far all had been quiet, more than usual quiet … Christmas Day quiet.

With Nathan away with his father, Lisa had volunteered to work the day shifts on Christmas Day and Boxing Day instead of going to her sister's for the traditional family celebration.

"I get along well with my family, I really do and I like seeing them all from time to time, but a dozen or so people together in one house, after too much to eat and too much to drink can become something of a nightmare. Last year one of my nephews was sick all over the carpet, his older brother almost set the Christmas tree on fire and my older sister and her husband had a terrible row right after the Queen's speech. It was very stressful and I don't mind working this year for a change," she had confessed to Severus at the end of Nathan's last pre-Christmas lesson.

And then he'd had this idea, this utterly preposterous idea. He had tried to laugh about it, to forget about it, to rip it out of his head, to kick it into oblivion. But it had invaded his thoughts, refused to go away, clung to his brain with stubborn tenacity: He would invite Lisa to dinner on Christmas Day after work. He would cook something nice in return for the dinner she had cooked for him. He would buy presents for her and for Nathan…

Another glimpse through the blind. Where was she? She should have arrived half an hour ago. Did she have other arrangements after all? He picked up his wand, went into the kitchen and cast a _Stasis_-charm on the food, sighing deeply. Perhaps it would have been better if he had informed her about his plans beforehand. Sadly he regarded the festive candles on the kitchen table. This was just like him, he had messed things up, no social skills; he would always be a pathetic loner, no matter how much he tried…

The noise of a car brought him to the window again. It was Lisa's Astra at the kerb. She opened the door, got out and went up to her house, rummaging in her bag for her keys. In a few seconds she would go inside, find his letter and then what? Would she laugh at him? Find an excuse – too tired after work? – and spend the evening in front of the TV, leaving him with his dinner and the bottle of wine?

She was sticking her head out of the door – how did she know he was watching out for her? – waving his letter, smiling, raising her hand, five fingers outstretched and mouthing something that looked like 'give me five minutes'. He closed his eyes, suddenly very much aware of the frantic Samba rhythm his heart was performing. She was coming, she was having dinner with him. On Christmas Day. The first time since his leaving Hogwarts that he would spend Christmas Day, well, part of Christmas Day, in the company of another human being, and this time it was a human being he actually wanted to spend Christmas with…

He closed his eyes, concentrated on breathing to slow down his heart and hurried into the kitchen to put the finishing touches on the food.

It was almost half an hour before there was the expected knock on his front door. Drying his hands on a kitchen towel he went there to open it.

"You're late," he greeted her gruffly.

"I'm sorry, I…" she started, but then stopped, smiling and obviously deciding to ignore his grumpiness. "Hiya, Severus. This is a pleasant surprise indeed. How thoughtful of you to invite me to Christmas dinner. I thought I would have to make do with a pizza from the freezer and an evening in front of the telly. If I had known about your plans I wouldn't have gone for a quick drink with the others after our shift."

Muttering some unintelligible and still grumpy reply he took her coat and draped it on the rack behind the door.

When he turned towards her Lisa handed him a small parcel wrapped in silver paper dotted with holly.

"Merry Christmas, Severus."

He blinked, hesitating, before he extended an uncertain hand to take the parcel and gesture his guest through the living-room and into the kitchen, where the table had been set for two. Next to one of the plates were two parcels.

"The smaller one is for you and the other one for Nathan. Merry Christmas," Snape announced, standing in the middle of thkitchen, holding his own present in a clueless hand.

"Thank you, Severus."

She waited. He didn't move, remained standing, stiff and silent.

"Eh… shall we open our presents then?" she asked, suppressing a smile.

He gave a shrug. They shared a look and a sheepish smile before busying themselves with their presents.

Lisa removed the wrapping carefully, he had made an elaborate bow and managed to wrap it without any sellotape. Amazing. Had he used magic?

A small, plain, gold-coloured carton appeared. She opened it curiously. There was a small cut glass vial inside, filled with a clear liquid. Perfume? She looked at him. Somehow she could not imagine him venturing into Boots asking for perfume, trying different scents, listening to the assistant's advice, hoping to choose the right one.

"It's the magical kind. There's only one variety. It is made to produce whatever scent the lady likes best. A very good idea, isn't it? You can't get it wrong," he said with an ironic twitch of his mouth. "And perfectly safe for Muggles, in case you're wondering."

"Thank you, Severus," she replied simply. "Thank you very much." She opened the bottle, sprayed a little on her wrist, raising it to her nose. It was a fresh, lemony smell. Just as she liked it. She looked up and met his apprehensive eyes.

"You're right, I like it, it's perfect. And now open yours."

She watched him struggle with the tape, and then the parcel was open, revealing a woolen muffler. Dropping the paper on the worktop he instinctively ran his hand over the fabric, feeling its softness. It was a deep maroon colour.

"I thought perhaps you would like a new one. About the colour…I bought it weeks ago and I thought it was perfect then," Lisa explained, "When you started decorating, however, I realised that your favourite colour is green, but I rather think that maroon suits you better. It's better for your complexion…"

He laughed. Loudly and freely.

"My complexion? Sweet Merlin! You are the first person to care about my complexion! Thank you very much, Lisa. The colour is fine, I like it. Green is… just an old habit, I suppose."

"Fine."

"Shall we eat, then?"

"Yes, please, I'm starving. What's on the menu today, Monsieur le chef?"

"Roast pork with apple sauce, baked potatoes and parsnips."

"Hmmm. Delicious."

Lisa sat down, while her host filled their plates with food and poured two glasses of wine.

"Well, then…cheers," he said rather hesitantly, sitting down as well and raising his glass.

"Cheers!" Lisa answered, meeting his glass with hers, producing a soft 'clink'.

The wine was excellent, light and dry, the way she preferred it.

"So you do celebrate Christmas in the wizarding world," Lisa remarked after they had dedicated some silent minutes to the food.

"Yes, we do. Why?"

"Oh, I just wondered… it's a Christian festival after all and I didn't get the impression that you wizards were very much into Christianity."

"Hm, I see." He was thoughtfully mopping up some sauce wit a piece of potato. "Well… today everybody celebrates Christmas, don't they. You don't need to believe in the child in the manger and the three Magi, for most people it's just a holiday, a tradition, an occasion where you have to spend energy and money on buying useless presents nobody needs and nobody likes, an excuse for over-indulging in food and getting mindlessly drunk …"

He gave a shrug.

"You don't sound as if you like Christmas very much."

He put down his knife and fork and bestowed one of his long, intense glances on her.

"This is the first Christmas I really enjoy."

Lisa felt her cheeks redden and, at a loss for words, busied herself with the meat on her plate.

There was a long stretch of silence. She was aware of his eyes resting on her. In the end she couldn't stand it any longer and looked up, meeting his gaze. He regarded her with a curious mixture of resignation and resolution.

"When I was a child there was never enough money in the house for Christmas decorations, presents or a Christmas feast, nor was there enough… love to create a Christmas atmosphere."

"How sad. What was wrong with your family?" Lisa asked conversationally, while inwardly holding her breath. Here was another opportunity to learn something about this man's past. Perhaps he would finally volunteer something about himself…

"My parents married because I was on the way. That's what people did in those days. My mother was a witch, barely out of school, my father was a Muggle. Any love they may have had for each other had evaporated by the time I arrived. My father worked in the local mill," he waved his hand in the general direction of the waste land at the end of the street, "like his father and grandfather before him, but the decline of the old industries had already started and he soon became unemployed. Being unskilled, he couldn't find permanent employment again. He started to drink which made matters even worse, of course."

"I see."

An unhappy childhood, an unwanted child, a dysfunctional family. A bad start into life. Lisa looked at his right hand playing with the handle of his knife. She felt the urge to touch this hand in a gesture of compassion and comfort. She wanted to ask about his mother, about his grandparents… but something held her back.

"And later on? When you went to Hogwarts?" she asked instead.

"Oh, Hogwarts. I always stayed over Christmas, one of the few chosen students who had nowhere to go to. It was Christmas dinner with the headmaster and the teachers who had stayed behind, a rather stiff and solemn affair. 'Rest in peace' rather than 'Joy to the World'." He gave a bitter laugh. "And still no presents."

"Oh." She frowned, wondering once again if Hogwarts was the right school for her son. Surely a boarding school should put a bit more emphasis on pastoral care. Were there other schools for wizards? She dimly remembered having heard something about France and…"

"Don't worry, Nathan will be fine. Don't judge the school from my experiences. I was… a rather… difficult student."

She smiled weakly.

"Can you read thoughts?"

He shrugged.

"Your face is very… expressive."

"Oh...I still can't believe that you never enjoyed Christmas. What about later, after Hogwarts?"

He snorted.

"Later attending the Christmas celebrations became a professional duty that couldn't be avoided; and for the last seven years I've simply ignored Christmas."

"Oh, that's…"

"Pathetic, I know."

He picked up his knife and fork again, showing her that for him the subject was closed. He attacked his meat with unnecessary force.

She took a deep breath.

"No, I wanted to say that this is quite common an attitude. Many people think that Christmas has deteriorated into consumerism and reject the whole Santa and holly business. Personally…" she laughed, trying to steer the conversation back to a less gloomy atmosphere. "I let myself be carried away by the festive spirit every year. I rather like receiving presents and choosing them for others, I like the celebrating, the music and the lights."

With a deprecating laugh she drained her glass.

He watched her, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

"And I like this Christmas dinner with you. I didn't know you could cook so well. Do you use magic?"

Laughing softly he shook his head.

"Basically I do it the Muggle way, with a little bit of magic thrown in now and then. Complex household spells, like the ones you need for cooking, are a special branch of magic which is not taught at school. Usually girls learn them from their mothers."

"Only girls? Really? Did your mother show you nothing?"

"My mother rarely used magic after her marriage. And household spells are considered to be a female prerogative anyway.

Lisa snorted. "A female prerogative! Even today? What about emancipation and women's rights, gender equality?"

He grinned at her indignation.

"Wizarding society is rather conservative, I'm afraid. Would you like a second helping?"

"O, yes, please."

And they had more food and more wine and talked about the trip to Diagon Alley, until Lisa couldn't keep her eyes open any longer.

"I'm sorry," she said, stifling a huge yawn, "but I really have to go to bed now. I have another day of work tomorrow and there's going to be a birthday party for one of our senior nurses tomorrow night. I'll see you on Wednesday then. Shall I help you with the dishes?"

"No, thank you. I can do them in a tick – with magic," he added dryly.

Then they were standing at the door, awkwardly, suddenly not knowing what to say. Lisa shrugged into her coat.

"Thank you very much for a very pleasant evening, Severus," she said slowly, waiting for a reaction. When there was none, she took a deep breath, stepped forward, quickly raised herself on tiptoes and brushed his cheek with a shy kiss. He stiffened and gasped softly. Lisa shot him a sidelong glance, feeling her cheeks grow hot. What on earth had got into her? Had she gone too far?

But then his mouth twitched into a smile.

"You are welcome," he said, and when she offered him her hand in farewell he raised it to his lips in an elegant, sweeping gesture and, with a little bow, placed a kiss on the back of her fingers.

Outside in the street, Lisa stopped for a moment, breathing in the cold night air. She felt lightheaded and she knew it wasn't from the wine. What were her feelings for this man? So far she had always seen him as Nat's teacher, as her neighbour, but tonight… it had been different. He had been more open, more vulnerable and she had become aware of him as… a man… as a man who could make her heart beat faster… What was happening to her? She had to be careful, couldn't let it happen. There was Nat to think of, what would he say if she started falling for his mentor? It was ridiculous. With another deep breath she tried to calm down her heart, resisting the urge to turn round and wave, in case he was looking out of his window, and quickly went to her own front door.

Severus Snape was staring at the closed door, his hand on his cheek, his palm covering the place she had kissed. His heart had returned to its frantic dance rhythm, his head failing to understand what had just happened. The evening had gone well, much better than he had imagined in his wildest dreams. But why had she kissed him? Was it her way to say thank you? Was it common usage among Muggles to kiss each other for no particular reason? Was it common practice for a woman to kiss a man she happened to live next door to just to say 'thank you' for a dinner? Or… was it possible that she saw more in him than just her neighbour and her son's mentor? Rubbish! Impossible! Merlin's straggly beard, he had to stop following this line of thought. Immediately.

They had agreed to go to Diagon Alley on Wednesday. It was her day off. Nobody could tell what would happen there, who they would meet, what she would learn. But most probably it would be enough to put an end to her kissing him for good.

He locked his front door, went into the kitchen and started with the dishes. And while he was going through the motions of magically removing dried scraps of food from pots, of washing and drying plates and cutlery, he felt the dread of anticipation he had forgotten during the evening with Lisa return with a vengeance.

_I hope you didn't find this chapter too boring. Somehow I thought I needed it before the adventure of Diagon Alley._


	15. Chapter 15

_So here it is at last, the Diagon Alley Chapter. We did some decorating in the study - totally without magic unfortunately - and then I got mixed up with all the different wires and connections and the computer did funny things and the internet didn't work. Arrrgh!_

_The usual disclaimers apply._

**Chapter Fifteen**

They had arranged for Lisa to come over to Snape's house so that he could apparate them to London from the privacy of his backyard. He had asked her to be on time, explaining that he would have to lift the complex web of wards protecting his premises for the short moment of apparition. Lisa had wondered what exactly he was talking about, but she had understood that he had protected his house with security measures based on magic and was left with the impression that these were even more thorough than the non-magical ones used at 10, Downing Street. Why, for heaven's sake? Spinner's End wasn't that kind of street where every second house boasted a burglar alarm. And no potential burglar in his right mind would consider breaking into Snape's house worth the trouble anyway. Did he suffer from some sort of paranoia? But who would want to harm him? He certainly wasn't in danger of being the target of a terrorist attack, was he? So why did he bother with 'wards' – whatever that was? Well, here was another chapter in her secret book about the peculiar ways of Severus Snape to ponder on…

When the gate was opened on Lisa's knocking and she came face to face with her neighbour, she stopped short and couldn't help gasping. In front of her was someone who looked like a character from a costume drama, dressed all in formal black covered by a voluminous cloak.

He reacted to her open mouth with a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry, I should have warned you."

"Is this…" she waved her hand at him, "Is this the way wizards dress?"

"More or less."

She studied him closely.

"It is so… historical and it must be… uncomfortable and impractical. But…" she walked around him slowly, "I must admit, it really suits you. You look different… so, well… genteel, distinguished… and you seem much sterner… and more intimidating."

Then she looked down her front at her jeans and plain black coat. "Won't I stick out dressed like this? They'll see at once that I don't belong."

"Oh, don't worry. More and more wizards tend to prefer Muggle clothes nowadays. After all, they are more practical."

"Then why don't you…?"

He smirked.

"Because dressed like this I look much more genteel, distinguished, much sterner and more intimidating, which can be useful. Shall we? Take my arm."

Lisa took hold of the black cloth, stumbling when Snape performed an unexpected turn on the spot and then the ground fell away beneath her feet; there was blackness and an extremely uncomfortable, nauseating feeling of tightness, as if every ounce of air was squeezed from her body. But it lasted only for a moment, soon there was a soft thud and she felt the reassuring hardness of cobble stones under her feet.

Lisa opened her eyes and looked around warily. They had arrived in a large courtyard surrounded by buildings on each side. While she was looking, there were soft 'plops' everywhere and people, mostly alone, sometimes in groups of two, appeared out of thin air. They didn't seem to think this unusual. Some of them exchanged greetings, most ignored the others and were on their way towards a narrow passage at the far side of the courtyard.

"That was apparition", Severus explained, drawing up his hood against the icy drizzle that had started to fall. "The quickest way of magical transportation, but also the trickiest one. No one is allowed to apparate under the age of seventeen and you have to take lessons and pass a test. This…" his hand made a sweeping motion, "is the official apparition site of Diagon Alley."

He looked around, grunting disapprovingly.

"I didn't expect it to be so busy today, it's after Christmas, what are all these people doing here?"

Lisa laughed.

"Have you never been to the shops after Christmas? I think sales are almost as high after Christmas as before and obviously this is something wizards and Muggles share. People exchange the presents they don't like or which don't fit, they want to spend the money they were given for Christmas, they want to redeem vouchers, book tokens…"

"Enough, I understand." He let out a resigned sigh. "I just hoped there would be fewer people around."

"Seeing people is what I've come for," Lisa laughed. "So… the more the merrier for me."

He shook his head. His face was hidden by his hood but she could imagine him grimacing wryly.

"Come, let's go, I need to go to Gringott's first, then to a special apothecary's and to a bookshop. I thought you could come with me, have a look around and if there is any place you would like to go to we can do that afterwards."

Lisa nodded her agreement and rummaged in her handbag for her umbrella. Opening it she followed Severus's uneven steps towards the passage and then on to a street crowded with after-Christmas shoppers. She tried not to stare too obviously at her surroundings, which looked like, well, the set for the filming of a Jane Austen novel. Small shops with bay windows, their signs written with old-fashioned letters and fanciful spellings, a narrow, cobbled street. If it had not been for the shoppers she could have believed they had travelled back in time. But the people were a motley 20th century crowd, boasting various skin colours and hair styles, wearing everything from jeans and trainers, mini-skirts and boots to full-length robes and cloaks. Neither she nor Severus looked out of place in their attires.

There were no cars, no bikes, in fact, no vehicles at all. Did wizards only use apparition or the fireplace to travel? Or was there a large car-park nearby?

On their right there was what looked like a café and Lisa made a mental note that at the end of their shopping tour they could give themselves a treat there.

They passed a shop where dozens of men and boys had gathered in front of the window, pointing at and discussing the merits of – Lisa blinked incredulously – a broom on display. So it was true, broomsticks were a means of transportation! A few houses further down the street there was a shop called Magical Menagerie selling animals, rats, cats and toads by the look of it, and then another one which was by far the busiest and most colourful one in the street. Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes – someone had a penchant for alliterations here. It seemed to attract mostly young customers, children with shining eyes, harassed looking parents in tow.

"A joke shop", explained Severus, when she couldn't take her eyes from its windows, trying to figure out what it was selling; the disdain in his voice all too obvious. Lisa looked at the glittering windows curiously, some of the objects seemed familiar and harmless, hats and quills and brightly coloured sweets and playing cards, others appeared completely bizarre. She would have liked to stop and examine everything, but as Snape hurried on, aiming for an impressing white Regency building, she could only add the shop to her list of places she wanted to visit later on.

There were two security men at the entrance of the building. No, not men, as Lisa realised, recalling the pictures they had studied in one of Nat's lessons, but goblins, smaller than humans, dark haired and of a darker complexion, experts in everything connected with precious metals and stones, the bankers of the wizarding world. The two security goblins had a rather relaxed attitude towards their job, they regarded Lisa and her dripping umbrella with the most fleeting of glances, acknowledged Severus' lowering his hood with a disinterested nod, casually running two long silver rods up and down next to their bodies, and nodded them in.

Inside the building Severus led her to a waiting area with leather armchairs and a small marble table covered with an array of newspapers and magazines.

"I hope you don't mind waiting here. I need to go to my vault, it may take a little while."

Lisa shook her head, smiling bravely, trying not to show the unease she felt about being left alone in the strange surroundings. People were staring in their direction. Could they see that she wasn't a witch? She sat down in one of the armchairs, nodding to another woman sitting there, openly watching Lisa and Severus, and picked up one of the newspapers, holding it up high, pretending to read but barely glancing at the headlines and moving pictures as she slowly turned the pages. The paper was something she could hold on to for safety and hide behind while peering over its rim and taking in the marble splendour of the lobby. She saw Severus leave through one of the doors at the far side, accompanied by a goblin employee.

"Excuse me." Someone coughed meaningfully. "Excuse me, please."

Lisa realised that this was meant for her, lowered the paper and found the woman peering at her curiously.

"That was Severus Snape, wasn't it?"

Lisa made a curt affirmative noise, hoping it would satisfy the woman's curiosity. She wasn't interested in conversation, fearing that she would somehow reveal her non-magical status as soon as she opened her mouth.

But the woman didn't give up. She shifted a bit closer to the side of her armchair, leaning towards Lisa.

"He was my teacher at school. Oh Merlin, how we all feared and hated him! I haven't heard of him for years, not after… well, you know what. There were rumours that he had survived the battle, but nobody I talked to was absolutely sure if he was still alive. It's amazing. Such a brave man, a real hero, and with so tragic a fate. Are you a friend of his? Or are you…" she bent forward, her nose almost touching Lisa's paper, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Are you his wife?"

Lisa shook her head swallowing hard. "No … just a friend," she managed to say, hoping the curtness of her answer would discourage the woman from any further attempts of conversation. Wrong.

"A friend? How interesting. How lovely. So what is he doing nowadays? Where does he live? Did he receive an Order of Merlin?"

An order of what? Lisa was thinking hard, desperately trying to come up with of something non-committal to say that would shut the woman up, when, to her immense relief, a large, curly haired man appeared in the waiting area, making for the woman's chair.

"I'm ready, dear, sorry, they are having some problems with transportation to the vaults."

"No problem, I've had the most interesting conversation with this young lady here. You won't believe it, but she is a friend…"

"Sorry, Nan, we need to go. We're already late for our appointment with the solicitor," he interrupted her, smiling apologetically at Lisa, and the woman rose obediently, casting a last look of longing and unfulfilled curiosity in Lisa's direction. Lisa watched her talking to her husband excitedly on their way out and shortly before they reached the door, both husband and wife turned and stared back at her. Lisa felt her cheeks grow hot and buried her face in the newspaper, wondering once again who exactly Severus Snape was. A teacher they had feared and hated? A brave man with a tragic fate? What next?

An uneven step approaching announced that it was safe to look up.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to be so long, but they are having some problems with transportation to the vaults."

"It's OK", muttered Lisa, getting up, grateful for the security of his company. A brave man! A tragic hero! Should she dare ask him what it was all about?

They were on their way out and had almost reached the large bronze doors, when they were pushed open from the outside and in came the most stunning person Lisa had ever seen. A man with silver blonde hair, sleek and carefully arranged around his shoulders, framing a pale, chiseled face, which was a study in purest supercilious arrogance. He wore a cloak like Severus, but it was of thick, incredibly soft and immensely expensive looking dark green velvet, clasped at the throat with a large silver brooch. He carried a walking stick, too, a thin, elegant affair with a silver handle, an accessory rather than a walking aid. The man stopped in his tracks when he saw them, his features freezing into a mask of utter surprise, shock even. Lisa's heart missed a beat. Did this man feel insulted because in all his aristocratic magical splendor he found himself face to face with a denim-clad common Muggle? Except he wasn't staring at her, she realised now, he was staring at Snape.

"Severus," he said hoarsely, having to clear his throat, and it was obvious that he had to fight hard to regain his composure.

"Severus!" he repeated, this time with just the right dosage of warmth in his voice, "what a pleasure to meet you, old friend." The man smiled, underscoring his words with a small, but unbelievably elegant bow. "And it is an even greater pleasure to meet this charming lady, of course."

Another, slightly deeper bow and a winning smile in Lisa's direction.

"Won't you introduce me to her?"

Severus' face had turned into a stony mask.

"Lisa, this is Lucius Malfoy, an old … friend; Lucius, this is Lisa, my neighbour." Snape's voice was gruff, his pronunciation of the word 'friend' dripping with irony.

The blonde man didn't seem to notice the rudeness. His eyes were on Lisa who felt her cheeks grow hot.

"How charming. Your neighbour. Indeed. Well, well, is she a…?" he asked silkily.

"Does it matter?" retorted Snape, his eyes glittering dangerously.

The man grimaced, shrugged and lost interest in Lisa.

"You never answered our owls," he continued, stepping closer to Severus.

"I saw no purpose in answering them."

"O come on, Severus, you know that we were concerned about your well-being. Narcissa even wrote to McGonagall to find out about you, but the old hag pretended not to know anything. It was not very considerate of you to leave us in the dark like this. After all we were…"

"…friends, yes." Snape grimaced and gave a shrug. "Minerva didn't pretend. She didn't know." And as an afterthought he added, "how is Narcissa?"

The blonde man's smile froze.

"Narcissa?" he asked, staring a Snape.

Severus held his gaze, frowning slightly.

" Narcissa, yes, Lucius," he confirmed in a low voice.

A certain hint of sadness softened the haughty expression for a moment and the blonde man looked at the handle of his walking stick.

"You haven't changed, Severus. Still as perceptive as ever and with the talent of putting your finger where it hurts most. Narcissa… she's …coping. Her nerves never recovered from what she had experienced during the Dark Lord's reign. She rarely goes out in public nowadays."

Severus nodded sadly.

"She also misses Draco. She is still so grateful for what you did for our son, you practically saved him from…"

"How is he?" Snape interrupted impatiently.

"Draco? Oh, he's fine, no, honestly, he really is. You probably know there was a trial, but he got away without a conviction and went to the States to study economics. Harvard, you know. He's in Hongkong now, working for the local branch of Malfoy Enterprises. He's quite good at his job."

The sadness had gone, the arrogance was back. Tossing his hair back with a well-practised, elegant movement of his head, he stared down his nose at the small crowd of people who had gathered in the lobby, watching their conversation. Snape added his black stare, while Lisa wanted either to sink through the floor or to run away and hide. Even if these people were watching because of Severus' glamorous friend, it had to be obvious from his behaviour towards her that she was a Muggle, that she didn't belong. Why had she insisted on going to Diagon Alley? Severus' reluctance to take her should have told her it was going to be a disaster. She inched a bit closer to Snape, hoping he would end the conversation and take her away.

And he seemed to understand her discomfort. Drawing his cloak closer around his body, he nodded towards the blonde man.

"Give my regards to your family, Lucius. You can tell them I'm well, there is no need for concern."

"Of course, Severus, of course. But don't forget Narcissa would be very happy if you answered her owls. And you're always welcome at Malfoy Manor. As the Muggles say…" a quick sidelong glance at Lisa, "don't be a stranger, old friend."

Snape replied with a non-committal nod and started walking towards the door. Lisa followed him, adjusting her steps to his slow gait, although she desperately wanted to get out, away from the staring wizards, as quickly as possible.

"Who is he? Is he really a friend of yours?" she asked when they were out of earshot.

"Lucius Malfoy, patriarch of one of the oldest and wealthiest wizarding families in Britain. A friend… of sorts. He is a few years older than I and was the leader of our clique at school. Later on we… we moved in the same circles for a while."

"Did you? He is very… well, posh, isn't he?"

Snape chuckled.

"Lucius? Oh yes, he is… 'poshness' personified and he has the uncanny ability to always land on his feet, whatever happens. Although I think that despite his affected demeanour he and his family still suffer from the after-effects of the … troubles we had some years ago. You heard what he admitted about his wife. And they've never quite regained the position and the influence they used to have."

They went outside. The rain had stopped and some tentative rays of winter sunshine made the cobblestones glitter. As they joined the crowd in the street Lisa became uncomfortably aware of the curiosity of the passers-by. People openly stared and whispered, some even stopped in their tracks and turned round to have a second view. Snape didn't seem to notice, he didn't look right and left, his face stony. Lisa finally couldn't contain herself any longer and touched his arm.

"Can they see that I'm not a witch?" she asked under her breath. "They are all staring at me."

"They are not staring at you, they are staring at me," he replied as if this was the most natural thing in the world, drawing up his hood again. She looked at him, waiting for an explanation, but he said nothing and she realised that instead of learning something about him she would be left with another load of unanswered questions.

People were staring at him as if he was a celebrity. Why did they all seem to know him? He had been her teacher the woman had said. So probably many people knew him from school. But was staring the proper reaction if you met a former teacher? Even if you had hated and feared him? Wouldn't you at least nod in greeting or exchange a few words? Or was it because of his acquaintance with rich Mr Malfoy? Had word of their encounter in the bank already spread in Diagon Alley? Or did it have something to do with what the woman had said about his being a hero? What had he done that people considered him a hero? Except some of the stares looked outright hostile. As if he was a well-known villain. This was getting more and more mysterious. Who on earth was this man?

Severus stopped at a street corner. Another, narrower and darker street was leading off to their right. There were fewer people around and most of them had a decidedly unprepossessing look; however, they seemed to be intend on minding their own business, they didn't stare, at least not openly.

"This is Knockturn Alley", Snape informed her. He hesitated, offering her his arm. "It is a bit dodgy, but you don't have to be afraid. I need to buy some special potion ingredients here."

Lisa cast a doubtful glance at the high, grimy buildings and at a group of three people wrapped in tattered cloaks huddled together in a dark corner, engaged in some whispered conversation, and gladly accepted his offer of protection.

Halfway down the street they entered the cave-like interior of a small shop. There were no other customers. An old, bearded man wearing threadbare black robes came from a backroom, alerted by a shrill bell. His bored expression changed when Severus lowered his hood and revealed his face. The man froze and bowed in reverence.

"Professor Snape!"

Lisa blinked. Professor? Severus handed the man a list, demanding in a low voice that something or other had better be fresh this time. The man seemed to shrink a bit, he bowed again and started to collect Severus' items from the floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with jars and boxes. It took some time. Severus remained in stony silence and Lisa watched the apothecary climbing ladders, taking down boxes and jars and putting them back amidst dust particles floating in the single beam of sunlight coming in through the shop window, all he time talking about the terrible rise of wholesale prices and how hard it had become to get certain ingredients, especially Hairy Corkscrew Roots. What were Hairy Corkscrew Roots and what did one do with them, Lisa wondered. Severus didn't comment.

When the apothecary had assembled all the items on the counter, Severus pulled a black cloth bag from his cloak and carefully put everything in it. Then he extracted a small leather pouch, from which he took several foreign looking coins.

The apothecary mentioned a sum – Galleons, had he really said Galleons? – accepted the coins with another bow, and handed back the change, bowing deeply. Severus took out his wand, pointed it at his bag and made it shrink to a quarter of its original size. Stowing it away in one of the pockets of his cloak, he answered the apothecary's farewell bow with a brief nod and steered Lisa out of the shop.

"Professor is just a title for a teacher at Hogwarts, you don't have to die of awe", he muttered, drawing up his hood again.

So he had really been a teacher at Hogwarts. She wasn't surprised, after all the lessons she had watched. But why had he never told her about it before? And it didn't explain the effect he had had on the old man.

"I see. But this old chap clearly was so in awe of you. What did you do to him? He is older than you, he can't have been one of the students that feared and hated you."

"That… what`?"

"Just something the woman in the bank said. She didn't say why though. Perhaps you…"

"Occupational hazard of being a teacher," he replied.

"Right. But that's not an explanation of the reaction you are getting here in the street. Who are you, Severus? What was your position in the wizarding world? The woman also mentioned something about your tragic fate and that you are a hero."

He gave a shrug and groaned, steering her out into the glittering post-Christmas shopping atmosphere of Diagon Alley again.

"Severus…?"

"Don't listen to such nonsense."

"This…" she pointed over her shoulder in the direction of the shop they had just left, "Wasn't nonsense. I've seen it with my own eyes. And I can also see that people are staring right now. So…"

Shaking his head he quickened is pace.

"Severus?"

No answer, he just hurried on.

"Where are we going?" Lisa asked petulantly.

"Flourish and Blott's."

His cane performed a quick staccato beat on the cobblestones.

"A bookshop," he added for her benefit.

It was as if word had gone round in Diagon Alley that they had come, Lisa couldn't help thinking. People seemed to recognize Severus despite his hood. It was weird, it was scary.

She was glad when they reached the sanctuary of the bookshop. It was full of customers who had been given book tokens for Christmas and who looked up from the books they were reading and cast curious glances at Severus, but the stares weren't as open and unabashed as outside in the street. Severus told her he would be looking for some rare books on the second floor and made for the stairs, taking the curious glances with him. Lisa wandered off, glad not to be in the centre of attention any longer, taking in the atmosphere, smelling the scent of newly printed books, browsing among the shelves. Some of the books looked odd, like the ones in Snape's living-room. Others looked… just like books, except that the pictures on the covers moved.

On one of the display tables in the centre of the shop there were stacks of books with the title 'Hogwarts, a History' advertised as a 'new and revised edition'. Lisa picked up one of them and started to scan its pages. Hogwarts had been founded in the Middle Ages, it was older than Eton. She leafed through the chapters dealing with some sort of discord among the founders – two of them extremely ugly, if the copperplate portraits were anything to go by – , read about the measures taken to hide Hogwarts from Muggle eyes after an increase in witch-hunting in the 17th century and about the consequences of the Age of Enlightenment on the fundamental principles of magical education. In the early 20th century girls were admitted into the up to then boys-only Hogwarts Houses of Slytherin and Gryffindor, and soon the first boys were sorted into the traditionally female territories of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Then… something about an incident with a so-called Chamber of Secrets, which had been downright dangerous for both students and staff. Again she wondered if sending Nat to this school was a good idea. The Triwizard Tournament, a big inter-school event held every few hundred years or so. O God, students had actually died during the competitions! Perhaps she should better enroll Nat in the local comprehensive. It wasn't at the top of the league tables, but it wasn't bog standard either. At least pupils didn't die during school events. She went on to the last chapter – 'You-Know-Who's (Voldemort's) Reign and the Battle of Hogwarts' – and her eyes were caught by a certain name. She stopped skimming and read more carefully and became so absorbed in her reading, that she forgot her surroundings until someone meaningfully cleared his throat next to her.

She jumped and dropped the book.

Severus Snape bent down and picked it up. He looked at the cover, read the title and looked at her. She stared back, her heart pounding in her chest, making it impossible for her to speak. He said nothing, his eyes were pools of impenetrable black.

He added the volume to the stack of books he was carrying under his arm.

"I'm ready. I just need to pay." His voice was expressionless.

He turned and went to the counter, leaving her standing, watching his back as if in a trance. When he had finished the transactions, had shrunk his parcel of books and stowed it away in the pocket of his cloak, they left the bookshop, followed – of course – by the stares of the other customers.

A small group of elderly witches and wizards were standing outside in the street, exchanging gossip. One of them looked up when Snape brushed past her, Lisa following in his wake.

Her pink face clouded over.

"Murderer", she hissed, blocking his way. "You dirty coward. Are you still alive? How dare you show your face in public?"

Severus extended an arm and brusquely pushed her aside, his face deadly pale. Lisa could hear the comments of the other people. There were murmurs of approval and shouts of disagreement. The atmosphere became heated, the argument could turn into a fight at any moment. Lisa hurried to Snape's side and took hold of his free arm, walking as close to him as possible, staring back at the passers-by challengingly. They pushed their way through the crowd and hurried towards the apparition point as quickly as Severus' leg would allow.

When they passed the café Lisa cast a wistful glance at the people sitting inside the large windows. Going in there and enjoying a nice cup of tea was out of the question. Severus was too well-known and, as it seemed, too controversial a figure to allow them a cup of tea in peace.

Snape paused at the entrance of the apparition courtyard to catch his breath. He had drawn his hood up after the incident at the bookshop and Lisa couldn't see his face. She listened to his breathing, waiting for it to become less laboured. Inside her head there was chaos, she was desperately trying to assess what she had witnessed and heard and what she had read, attempting to understand who this man – her neighbour, her friend, her son's mentor – who he really was.

"Sorry?" she said, realising that he had spoken.

"I apologise. I shouldn't have brought you here."

"It's not your fault, Severus. I wanted to go. I had no idea..." she trailed off, peering into the shadow of his hood, trying to read his face.

He didn't answer.

"Severus?"

"Let's go home," he said tiredly, extending his arm. Lisa took it obediently and they entered the courtyard, preparing to apparate to Snape's backyard.


	16. Chapter 16

_I'd like to thank (cookies! flowers!) VerySmallProphet who, in her review, came up with the idea for this chapter. Originally I had planned to let Lisa and Severus go home straightaway, without any more incidents._

_But after thinking about VerySmallProphet's suggestion and going through several different scenarios I decided to give it a try, and here's the result._

_And of course I'd like to thank all the other reviewers whose emails I didn't get round to answer individually. My excuse this time? No, not work. I was away for a few days, far away from emails and the internet. And now:_

_The usual disclaimers apply._

**Chapter Sixteen**

Several factors played a role in what happened that Wednesday afternoon when Severus Snape and Lisa McGregor were about to apparate home:

To avoid collisions the apparition courtyard of Diagon Alley was divided into two parts. The part near the entrance was for those people who wanted to depart and the part in the back was for those who arrived. There was neither a clear line between the two sections nor any signs nor a warden who controlled apparition traffic, but all wizards knew about this unwritten rule and tried to stay in or head for the right half. Most of the time it worked perfectly well; from time to time, however, reports about accidents appeared in the_ Daily Prophet_,when people were careless, inexperienced in apparition or simply too drunk to navigate correctly.

Severus Snape was neither, but on this day the events in Diagon Alley weighed heavily on his mind and had exhausted his physical resources. He was distracted, didn't pay attention where he was going and Lisa, of course, was unfamiliar with the situation.

Then there was the wind. It had freshened, blowing in gusts, herding the clouds across the darkening afternoon sky and creating small tornados in the streets and alleys.

"I need a moment," Severus said, stopping and pulling a small bottle from the inside pocket of his cloak. Lisa recognized the red fluid. His modified pepper-up potion. He opened the bottle and drained it.

"I'd like us to arrive in one piece," he explained, taking a deep breath, steadying himself against the wind, the hem of his cloak flapping around his ankles. "Apparition burns up a lot of magical energy."

Lisa looked at him doubtfully, hoping he knew what he was doing. Hadn't he said that apparition was tricky? Was he really strong enough? What exactly could happen if something went wrong with the disappearing and re-appearing act? He had not been exactly explicit on this matter…

So when he offered her his arm she hesitated before touching it.

And in these few seconds of hesitation a concerto of soft plops erupted around them and they found themselves trapped in the middle of a large, cheerful group of people, who were laughing and playfully congratulating each other on arriving 'unsplinched'.

At the same time a strong gust of wind got hold of Snape's hood and blew it away from his head.

"Bloody hell, get out of the way! Don't you know the rules here? How did you get your license? You shouldn't be allowed to…" another 'plop' shouted as it turned into a man with a pony tail and a scarred face, who had bumped into Severus, lost his balance and was now getting up from the ground, cradling his left wrist with a painful grimace, accosting the party who had caused the collision with the fervour of righteous anger.

But the rest of the sentence died in his mouth as soon as he saw who this party was. The other new arrivals, most of them red-haired, wearing colourful, home-knitted woolen hats and scarves, also froze, thunderstruck, and were staring at Snape, who stared back with the expression of a cornered animal, while Lisa was looking from him to the group and back again with the uneasy feeling that this encounter looked as if it was going to be the climax of all the mess they had gone through that day.

Snape muttered a curse under his breath, his face drawn as if in pain. Instinctively Lisa tightened her hold on his arm.

"Snape!" The man with the pony tail whispered, aghast. He looked as if he was staring at a ghost.

"Snape? The 'eadmaster Severus Snape?" The very blonde, very beautiful and heavily pregnant young woman next to him asked, wide-eyed. "But Bill… Mon Dieu! Serait-ce possible?"

"Professor Snape!" Another young woman, her brightly coloured woolen hat, which was knitted in an intricate Fair Isle pattern pulled low over her very curly hair, was the first one to pull herself out of the stupor of surprise.

"Miss Granger," Snape replied tiredly.

The woman blushed.

"Mrs Granger- Weasley, actually. Ron and I were married in September."

She looked at a young red-haired, gangly man, who instantly came to life and put a proud arm around her shoulders in a gesture both protective and proprietorial and nodded at Snape with a sheepish grin on his reddening face.

"Ah," Snape replied softly. "Congratulations, Mr Weasley and Mrs…" a slight bow towards the woman, "Granger-Weasley."

Lisa thought that his tone of voice would have been more appropriate for expressing his condolences. She was biting her lower lip, full of tension, waiting for the further development of events.

Another member of the red-haired group, a middle aged man, was the next one to recover. Conscientiously he herded the whole group away from the arrival section of the courtyard and then turned to Severus, his arms opened wide as if in preparation for drawing his fellow-wizard into a hug. But he stopped himself, probably on seeing the alarmed expression on Snape's face, and instead waved his arms to underscore the deep emotions evident in his face and his voice.

"Merlin's beard, Severus! What a surprise! Imagine running into you here! After all these years! Good Lord, we haven't seen you for what? seven years…"

"Eight."

"Eight years, dear me. We often wondered about you. How are you? Where have you been hiding all this time?"

"You don't look well," a plump woman standing next to him – his wife? – added, eyeing Severus critically. "I'm sure you don't eat properly."

She cast a brief, reproachful and at the same time curious glance at Lisa.

"I am not well, Molly, I think you are familiar with the nature of my injuries, I was informed that the _Prophet_ couldn't resist publishing a detailed bulletin when I was in hospital" Snape said pointedly, lifting his cane a little in demonstration, "I haven't been well for eight years and I will never be well again, and I must say that I also find meeting my fellow wizards extremely trying."

The woman frowned, looking slightly offended, while the man laughed heartily.

"Your tongue is as sharp as ever. Nice to see you haven't changed there. I'm sorry about your condition. We always hoped that the healers' prognoses were wrong and that your health would improve with time and good care."

Snape grimaced and shrugged.

"And you've got a …partner," the woman called Molly said, smiling at Lisa now, "from the few things Minerva told us we thought that you'd lead the life of a hermit. Obviously it isn't true. Are you… married, Severus?"

"I'm Lisa, I just live next door to him," Lisa explained.

"Oh, well, then…" Molly seemed disappointed. Lisa looked at Severus and saw a quick smirk playing on his lips.

"And I'm a Muggle," Lisa added defiantly, bracing herself for the inevitable expressions of disgusted surprise this information was bound to provoke.

"But that's brilliant!" the red-haired, older man exclaimed, smiling and clapping his wool-clad hands together. "You are lucky, Severus, to have Lisa for a neighbour. I find it such an advantage to have a Muggle in the family so that you can get an insight into their perspective of things. Take Hermione's relatives, for example, her uncle is a civil servant in the Home Office, it is most interesting to talk to him and learn about Muggle administration and have his views on the organization of our Ministry. And her father can explain all these interesting Muggle gadgets, you know, the ones working with electricity, and, you won't believe it! he can even repair them. So if you live next door to this charming Muggle friend of yours you can…"

"Dad, please, give it a rest." Another red-haired man with the strong frame and weather-beaten complexion of a man with an outdoor job dropped his large hand on his father's shoulder, pulling him back a bit, smiling apologetically at Lisa.

There was a moment of awkward silence, everybody avoiding everybody's eyes. Lisa was still trying to recover from her shock about this unexpected fondness for Muggles.

"We have another young couple in our midst," Molly piped up in a high-pitched, extra cheerful voice. "Our Ginny and Harry are engaged to be married."

She turned and stepped aside so that Snape could see a dark-haired young man with glasses and a red-haired girl, who were holding hands. They blushed as all the others of the group waited and looked on expectantly while Severus and the young man exchanged glances.

Meanwhile other wizards had arrived in the courtyard and had gathered in small groups, forming a curious circle, muttering and pointing.

And suddenly it dawned upon Lisa who the red-haired people and their friends were. Granger, Weasley, Harry… Harry Potter most certainly – she had seen these names in print a short while ago. Good heavens! Here, in front of her, were some of the main protagonists of the Voldemort affair! These were the students who had managed to hide from Voldemort, plotting his downfall. This was the boy who had defeated the terrible monster, the boy to whose protection Snape had dedicated his life. These were the people who had thought Severus a traitor, an enemy, the incarnation of evil, and had done their best to fight him, to stop him, to defeat and destroy him. Obviously their opinion of him had changed and they didn't bear any grudges, they had greeted him like a friend, from what they had said they seemed to care for him…

"Congratulations, Miss Weasley, Mr Potter," Severus said hoarsely

"Thank you, Sir, it's good to see you again."

The young man extended his hand and after a moment's hesitation Snape stepped forward and took it. The young man smiled, pushing his glasses up his nose. With his bobble hat – blue with a pattern of white reindeer – he didn't look like the shining hero he had been described as in the book.

"It's really nice to meet you, Sir. We will always be grateful for what you have done for us. I hope your injuries don't cause you too much pain."

The eyes behind the glasses sparkled warmly.

He really means it, thought Lisa.

Severus muttered something about not being a teacher any longer and no need to call him 'sir', and looked uncomfortable, stepping back a little, his shoulders hunched, as if trying to get away from the group and hide.

He can't handle people being friendly, Lisa realised all of a sudden. He had been so much more confident when dealing with the polished arrogance of Lucius Malfoy, with the insolence of the stares in Diagon Alley, with the servile reverence of the apothecary, with the open hostility of the people outside the bookshop… He isn't used to friendliness, she thought, shuddering, overwhelmed by a very strong a pang of sympathy, he isn't used to other people meaning well, he's more used to seeing them as potential enemies. Suddenly she had an idea of what he had been like in his former life, of what his life had been like… and, looked at in that light, how extraordinary a situation his friendship with Nathan and her had to be for him.

"… don't want to keep you from enjoying your shopping trip."

She realised that she had missed bits of the conversation. Severus had regained some of his composure and was in the process of taking his leave.

"Well, I hope it won't be another eight years before we meet again, Severus," Mr Weasley said, shaking Severus' hand. "I can understand that you avoid public events, like the annual celebrations in remembrance of the Battle of Hogwarts, but we always have a small private party on the same day, you know, just the former members of the Order – those who survived – and their families. It's at the Hog's Head in the evening, we would be very glad if you joined us next time. And why don't you visit us some day? You know where we live, don't hesitate to drop by."

"Yes, do visit us. Any time you like. And take care of yourself," his wife added, with a meaningful glance at Lisa and then, after more farewells, the group was on its way to the passage leading into Diagon Alley. Severus' gaze followed them. He remained very still, didn't say anything. Then he slowly looked around, giving the curious gapers one of his black stares. They shuffled their feet awkwardly and started to disperse. At last he turned to Lisa, not bothering to hide the pain and tension in his face.

"I'm sick of all this, let's get out of here," he muttered and offered her his arm. This time she took it without thinking twice. She, too, was tired of everything. She had met enough wizards to last her a lifetime or at least the months before Nathan would get his letter from Hogwarts. She wanted to go home. And if apparition was the only means of getting there she didn't care if it carried any risks.


	17. Chapter 17

_The usual disclaimer apply_

**Chapter Seventeen**

Seconds later, after another spell of agonizing tightness, Lisa's toes touched solid ground – and then she was in a heap on the floor, entangled in the folds of Severus' cloak. Freeing herself from the heavy, damp cloth she sat up. Snape didn't move. He was lying on his back, his hood and his long hair spread out like a halo around his head. He was white as a sheet and his eyes were closed

Without thinking Lisa, the nurse, took over. With a few practiced moves she placed him in a perfect lateral recumbent position, shoved her hands inside the cloak, checking his breathing, and started to loosen his tie and his high collar, cursing the array of small buttons on his formal attire under her breath. At last she managed to pull his shirt collar open and frowned when her fingers felt what he had always successfully hidden from her under collars and turtlenecks: The distinct relief of massive scar tissue. Curiously she opened his collar a bit further to have a look. The entire side of his neck had been mangled. It was hard to believe that he had managed to survive such an injury. What had the book said? This Voldemort guy had set his vicious, giant pet snake on him. In a cold-blooded and calculating way. How dreadful; the deed of a madman, a pervert. Considering the extent of the scarring the wound had been horrible indeed. It was far more than just a simple snake bite, it looked as if the animal had torn chunks of flesh from the neck. Despite being used to treating injuries of every description day in day out she shuddered and had to swallow hard against the rising bile.

"Severus, can you hear me? Severus! Wake up for me please."

She bent down and checked his breathing again. She would have to call an ambulance if he didn't gain consciousness soon. It was late, getting dark already.

"Severus! Please!"

After what seemed like ages his eyelids fluttered open. Lisa let out a sigh of relief.

"Severus? It's me, Lisa. Can you hear me? Look at me, please."

A moan. He moved his head and swallowed.

"Severus. Can you hear me?"

Another moan. Then he sneezed.

"Severus? Do you know who I am? Can you say something to me?"

Finally his eyes focused on her.

"What…? Lisa…?"

"You apparated us from Diagon Alley and then you fainted."

He moaned again, moving, struggling to sit up. She put an arm around his shoulders and helped him.

"I'm sorry."

Rubbing his face with his hand he took a deep breath.

" As I said…apparition … can be very trying. Needs… lots of magical energy… two people … and … control the wards…"

"Shhh… it's OK; nice and easy, Severus, relax. Don't you think you should see a doctor? Shall I call an ambulance?"

"Ambulance… ," he had to clear his throat,"…rubbish. More pepper-up".

She rolled her eyes. His potion. Of course. He would prefer it to the skills of Muggle paramedics.

"Right then. Where is it? Can I get it?"

"Yes. Kitchen cupoard."

Kitchen cupboard. That meant getting into his house. She looked over her shoulder at his back door.

"The door is locked, isn't it?"

He nodded, fumbling in the inside pockets of his cloak. Lisa watched him anxiously. His face was still white as chalk, his breathing was fast, tiny beads of perspiration lined his upper lip. He slumped back against her arm, producing his wand. Pointing it at his backdoor he muttered a spell. He had to repeat it twice before the 'click' of the lock told them that he had succeeded. His breathing had become even more labored.

"Open. First cupboard … right hand side of the sink. Says… pepper-up (mod.) on the label, mod. is for …"

"…modified, I remember. Now stay calm, try not to faint again and I'll fetch the potion."

She scrambled to her feet and hurried into the kitchen. Finding the right cupboard and the small bottle of the potion was only a matter of seconds. Thank God he was an orderly man. Then she was back outside, pulling the stopper from the bottle and handing it to him.

He drank half the bottle and gave it back to her, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. Lisa watched him closely, ready to help. Slowly his face regained some colour and he looked less as if he would faint again any minute.

"Why don't we try to get you inside?" Lisa asked, feeling the cold creep through her clothes.

He nodded, and before she was ready to assist him he tried to get to his feet, but lost his balance and sank back, groaning with frustration. She rolled her eyes, biting back a remark about how big a nuisance stubborn male pride was, and put an arm around his shoulders, steadying him and pulling him up, handing him his cane. Still with her arm around him they staggered towards the house and into the kitchen, where he slumped onto one of the chairs at the table.

It was already dark inside. Lisa switched on the lamp above the sink and put the potion bottle back into the cupboard, closing the door slowly, carefully, avoiding any noise. Resting her hands on the counter she stared out the window into the shadows of the backyard. From somewhere further down the street children's voices could be heard, laughing and shouting. A birthday party in progress? Suddenly she felt jealous of the happy, carefree people, wanted to be part of the party, join the games instead of dealing with the dour wizard with the dodgy past regaining his strength at the table behind her. What was she to do next? Lisa, the nurse, wasn't in demand any longer. Lisa, the woman, the neighbour, the friend would have to take over now, talk to him; but what was she to say? Slowly she turned, facing him. He had his elbows on the table, resting his head in his hands. His cloak had fallen from his shoulders and was draped over the back of the chair. As if feeling her gaze he lifted his head and ran a tired hand across his face. Through his open collar the edges of the white scars were visible.

"So?" he said, his black eyes challenging her, covering up the resignation etched in the lines of his face.

"So…"

She let out a deep breath.

"I don't know."

He snorted, pushing back his chair with a scraping sound.

"But you do know, don't you? That's what it is all about. You saw what people think about me, how they react when they set eyes on me. For most of them I've ceased to be a human being. They either glorify me, turn me into a heroic figure, a romantic or a tragic one even, all of which I swear I never was, or they vilify me, call me a traitor, a monster, which, believe it or not, isn't true either."

"What about the Weasleys?" Lisa asked quietly.

He threw his head back and barked out a bitter laugh.

"The Weasleys? Oh yes, I almost forgot. They belong to the selected few who have made it their point to pity me," he sneered, his face contorted into an ugly grimace, "which is even worse."

"I didn't get the impression that they pity you," Lisa said calmly. "They seemed to be really glad to meet you. They were concerned about your well-being."

He pushed himself from his chair and came over to the sink, taking a clean glass from the draining board and filling it from the tap. Leaning against the sink he drank thirstily, put the glass down with a heavy 'thud' and took a deep breath.

"They can't help it, I suppose," he replied bitterly, "they are dyed-in-the-wool do-gooders and incurable philanthropists. They would show some understanding for the devil himself if they could detect something noble and valiant in him. They are Gryffindors."

Gryffindor? One of the Hogwarts houses, Lisa remembered. But what did it have to do with the way people reacted? The way he had said it, it hadn't sounded like a compliment. She looked at him questioningly, but he went back to his chair and sat down, staring at the kitchen wall.

After a few seconds of silence he banged his fist on the table, turning towards her.

"So what do you think about me? You saw everything with your own eyes, you even had it spelt out for you in black and white when you found the bloody book and read about my infamous deeds. There is nothing left you don't know. So why don't you say what you want to say? Don't wait any longer, don't think I'm too weak to take it, because I'm not. I don't want your fucking understanding and pity. I'm all ears for whatever you want to throw in my teeth, let's get it over and done with."

"I don't know what to say, Severus. I don't know what to make of all the things I learned today. And there is still quite a lot left which I don't know and which I would like to hear about. From you. From the man, the human being Severus Snape. Oh, don't worry," she said when she saw him frown, "I'm not going to bother you now with my questions. We are both too worn out. But one of these days I would appreciate some first-hand information, some explanations, your side of the story… Christ, my head is in a mess, I need to think, to sort things out, to try and understand…"

She looked away from his penetrating black eyes. He sighed wearily. It sounded as if his rage had deflated.

"I didn't want this to happen," he said softly. Her eyes flew back to his face, accusing him.

"No, of course not. You'd rather have left me ignorant of your former life. I'm angry, Severus, really angry and disappointed because you never told us anything, you always avoided answering my questions. Why didn't you trust us? For how long did you plan to leave us in the dark?"

"This has nothing to do with trust. My former life is nothing to be proud of. You would have broken off contact with me if you had known, you wouldn't have wanted me to teach Nathan."

He sighed, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"It would have sufficed if you had learned by the time Nathan went to Hogwarts."

Lisa snorted in exasperation.

"And wouldn't that have been a nice surprise for my son? The man he has come to admire for his skills and knowledge… no, don't object, he really admires you, and he likes and trusts you because he can see the kindness and understanding beneath that dour exterior of yours. Anyway, this man Nat considers his friend turns out to be … to be a man with a dubious past… a dangerous double-agent… a murderer!"

She saw his face contort as if in pain and let out a sharp breath of satisfaction. She had hurt him. Good. She was so angry, so incredibly, helplessly angry… but at the same time… she turned and looked out the window again, past the dim reflection of her white face, into the darkness. What exactly was it she felt? There was, naturally, horror and disgust – he had been a member of an extremist gang propagating an ideology of racism and discrimination of the worst kind and terrorizing innocent people, she didn't want to imagine what he had done in his role as a Death Eater; he was a murderer, he had killed… at least once; there was also – she couldn't deny it – some morbid fascination with the whole Voldemort-Death Eaters-affair, with him being a successful spy, living an extremely dangerous life; she also couldn't help feeling pity for a life ruined by unrequited love and an angry young man's wrong decision – what was she going to do with all these emotions? Could she hate him? Despise him? Condemn him? Part of her wanted to slap him in the face for withholding the truth from her, another part wanted to run from the house, slam the door really hard behind her and never see him again; but there was also a part, as large and insistent as the other two, which could understand why he had not volunteered information about his past, which wanted to go over to him, take his clenched hands between hers, express sympathy for what he had suffered, for how he had acted, wanted to help him forget his past and find a better life… Oh, shit!

"I need to think," she said, addressing the window pane.

He didn't say anything. They listened to the noises of the children's birthday party. Happy shouts, laughter… why were they still outside, it was dark now? Nobody in the street had an idea who this man was and what he had been through. They all thought him weird, but so far no one had bothered to break through his barriers and get to know him better and find out who he really was… except her and Nathan. Was it coincidence, was it fate? And what was she to do now, knowing the main facts of his history? Knowing that it was worse than everything the gossip mongers among their neighbours had ever said about him? Run away? Comfort him? Or anything in between?

"When is Nathan coming back?" he asked eventually, his voice carefully calm and even. She turned, facing him.

"On Saturday."

"Will there… be a lesson on Sunday?"

"I… he'll probably be too jetlagged to concentrate."

"I see."

They stared at each other in silence; Lisa couldn't keep her eyes from his neck. His hands went to his collar and he pulled the shirt close.

"Sorry." She blushed and looked away.

Silence. Then:

"Are you going to tell Nathan?"

"Nat? Oh, I don't… I mean, well, yes, perhaps, I… " she sighed, "yes, I think he has a right to know."

He turned and started fumbling with his cloak, pulling out the parcel from the bookshop. Putting it on the table before him he picked up his wand and restored it to its original size. His movements were slow, like a sleepwalker's. When he had opened the parcel he took out a book and held it out for her. It was 'Hogwarts – A History'.

"Here – I interrupted your reading. You may also want to have a second look, to check facts."

She took the book.

"Thanks. That's very considerate of you."

"No, it isn't. It's pure self-interest. This book is a classic and they made a lot of fuss about the new edition, there were advertisements all over the place, I couldn't help hearing something about it. So I know that it was edited by a group of very able scholars, among them the young lady we met this afternoon, Miss Granger…"

"Mrs Granger-Weasley," she corrected him automatically, and he acknowledged it with a grimace.

"Yes. I trust that what they write is objective… is the truth."

"Right. Thanks. That's all very well, but… I think you should be the one to tell Nat."

His eyes widened for a moment before he lowered his gaze, studying the table top.

"You won't forbid him any further contact with me?"

His voice hadn't changed from its neutral calmness.

Lisa stared at him. Yes, wouldn't that be the right thing to do? For God's sake, he had hidden the truth about his past from her and Nat, she didn't know if he could be trusted, with his history he still might well be the slippery double-dealer; but Nat had benefitted so much from the lessons, there had never been any incident to make her doubt Snape's good intentions or his integrity, he was a good mentor, the past was over, he had distanced himself from it, he was a good man, he deserved friendship, he…

"I don't… he can't… you always…I… Oh, shit, I have no idea!"

He watched her, a sad little smile on his bloodless lips.

"It was a long day, an awful day. You're exhausted. You'd better go home, Lisa."

She looked at him. His face was back to its usual pale colour, he was sitting straighter and seemed better. He would manage, in the same way he had managed in all the years before. His face was the unreadable mask again, his eyes the unrevealing pools of black. His hand was at his collar, his fingers clenched in the white fabric of his shirt. He was her neighbour, the man she had formed a fragile friendship with in the past nine months. But he also was a complete stranger, a man beyond her range of comprehension. He had seen things and done things she would never have deemed possible. She had no idea how to react towards him, what to say. And yet she was reluctant to leave him.

"Are you sure you're OK?"

"Yes. Leave."

"Do you really feel better? I mean you're still…"

An exasperated sigh.

"Which part of 'yes' did you not understand? Rest assured, I'm fine. Leave."

"Right. OK. If you say so. Well…"

"Lisa, please. I promise I won't drop dead. Don't worry. Leave."

"Oh…OK, bye then."

With a last doubtful glance at him she opened the back door and left.

Severus Snape remained in his place at the table for a long time, numb, paralysed, sitting and staring at the door. He felt the potion take effect, his strength returned, but he had also developed a splitting headache, violent, blinding stabs of pain above his right eye. And he was thirsty, his mouth was parched, his tongue felt like sandpaper. A side-effect of the pepper-up-potion, the professional part of his brain stated, made worse by the emotional turmoil he had allowed himself to get into. He needed another potion and his bed, but first he needed another drink of water. Slowly he got up, wincing when even the careful movement sparked off a lightning of pain in his forehead, and went to the sink, filling his glass and draining it, once, twice. He looked at his face in the small mirror he used for shaving. The face of a ghost. Deadly pale, deep shadows under the eyes, five o'clock stubble on his cheeks and chin. And all this framed by curtains of black hair, lank, greasy and unkempt.

Suddenly he thought of Molly Weasley and sneered.

"You do look like shit, Snape," he said to his reflection. So what? Did it matter? Did anybody care, really care? The Weasleys? Potter? Had their concern been genuine? Pah… polite drivel, nothing else. Lisa? She was a nurse, for Merlin's sake, she couldn't help it, it was second nature to her, regardless of who it was that was under the weather. Would she speak to him again? Did he want her to? Would he really see Nathan again? Did he want to? Merlin's straggly beard, this awful day had worn him out, too, he was too tired and too much in pain to think straight.

"You're getting old, you're losing your grip" he scoffed and turned away to find his pain potion.


	18. Chapter 18

_To all the wonderful people who left reviews: Thank you very, very much, your feedback is very much appreciated and I'll try to pick up on your suggestions concerning the plot._

_The usual disclaimers apply._

**Chapter eighteen**

Sunday evening. Lisa and her son were having dinner. Nathan had returned from the trip with his father late in the evening the day before, had almost fallen asleep on his feet and had slept until Sunday afternoon. Now he was hungry and in the middle of his second helping of macaroni cheese, telling his mother about his holidays between mouthfuls.

"Disneyland was fun. All the attractions… I loved the rollercoaster, it was really fast. And we met all the characters from the movies. They are walking around, shaking hands with people. There are lots of shows, music and dancing. You can walk into the scenery of the films. It's kind of cool. But I liked the rollercoaster best. Dad didn't, it made him sick."

Nathan grinned and his mother joined him, remembering that her ex-husband had always had a weak stomach. Even car-rides on Scottish mountain roads with him in the passenger seat had made him look greenish…

"I'm glad you had a good time, Nat."

"Yes, it was OK. But, you know, Mum, they call it magic this and magic that, but it isn't, of course, it's all make-belief. And then it started to rain and everybody wanted to go inside. There was such a long queue, we had to wait and wait and wait. That was so boring. Actually, I'd rather have gone to Diagon Alley with you and Severus."

Lisa's smile wavered and she swallowed hard. This was the perfect opening for telling him about Snape. The only thing was that she didn't feel ready. After days and nights of mulling over the facts she had learned in Diagon Alley, she still hadn't come to a conclusion as to what to do and what to say, she was still waiting for the inspiration which refused to come. So perhaps it was about time to admit to herself that waiting any longer wouldn't make her any the wiser. She might as well start now and hope that somehow the right idea would present itself in the course of the conversation.

"Nat… about Severus…"

The boy looked at her expectantly. Her heart sank. She couldn't do this, she simply couldn't. Then she remembered something.

"He gave you a Christmas present."

She got up and fetched the small parcel from the shelf in the living room.

"Oh… wicked! What is it?" exclaimed her son and tore it open.

The brown cardboard box was decorated with green and golden frogs. Curiously Nathan opened it and peered inside.

"It's chocolate, I think," he said, reaching into the box and taking out a frog-shaped figure wrapped in golden tinfoil. He started peeling away the wrapper. A small card fell out. Lisa picked it up while Nathan bit the head off the chocolate frog.

"Mmm. It's good," he said, chewing and scooting closer to his mother to have a look at the card. It showed the picture of a clean-shaven man with long, brown, wavy hair, who smiled and waved, while with his other hand he patted the head of a large black dog. 'Cornelius Agrippa' said the writing underneath the picture. A short text on the back of the card provided more information: Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa von Nettesheim (1486 - 1535), ___German soldier and physician,_celebrated wizard imprisoned by Muggles for his writing, because they thought his books were evil. His most famous book is De Occulta Philosophia (1531)_, ____in which he encouraged the study of magic, explaining the world in terms of cabalistic analyses of Hebrew letters and Pythagorean numerology._

"Wow," said Nathan, "cool. What does 'Pythagorean numerology' mean, Mum?"

Lisa rubbed at the side of her nose with her forefinger. Pythagorean. Pythagoras. She remembered the Greek name from school. Didn't it have something to do with triangles?

"Well, I'm not quite sure, but I think Pythagoras was a famous Mathematician in ancient Greece and he discovered some rules which are still valid today. You'll learn about him in your Maths lessons."

"At Hogwarts?"

"Yes, sure... well,..presumably... I don't know."

Did they teach Maths at Hogwarts? She would have to ask Severus... Oh, shit! Thinking of his name made her feel a twinge of pain.

"Did you know about Cornelius Agrippa, Mum?"

"No, Nat, never heard of him," she admitted with a sigh. What else would her son learn that she had never heard of? With a sinking feeling she thought of what the school years in Hogwarts would bring.

She grimaced at the picture on the card, and the man winked at her and left, leaving behind a backdrop of half-timbered houses. Lisa blinked. She had seen magical pictures before and was used to the figures moving and smiling, but she had always thought that they would stay put, she had never watched one of the figures actually exit their picture.

"Wicked. Let's see if there are more cards," Nathan exclaimed happily and picked another chocolate frog from the box.

"Albus Dumbledore," he read, munching his next frog.

Albus Dumbledore? Lisa looked over Nathan's shoulder curiously. An old man with long white hair and a long white beard. How impractical a hairstyle, was the first thing that came to Lisa's mind before she called herself to order and focused on the more important issues.

"Does it say anything about him being headmaster of Hogwarts?"

Nathan scanned the text.

"Yes, it does. And it says that he is considered the greatest wizard of modern times. And that he sacrificed himself for the salvation of the wizarding world. What does that mean, Mum?"

Lisa sighed, trying to think of an adequate summary of what she had read in the book about Hogwarts.

"He got himself killed for the benefit of other wizards, Nat, for the greater good."

"Like Jesus?"

For a moment Lisa stared at her son, totally taken aback by his choice of comparison.

"Eh, well, no, perhaps not quite like Jesus... no, actually I don't think you can compare the two. We're talking about a much smaller scale here..."

"It's weird, though, isn't it?"

Another sigh.

"Yes, it is."

Nathan unceremoniously dropped the card on top of the first one, he didn't seem to be overly impressed with Dumbledore's abundant merits, and his hand went into the cardboard box again, alerting Lisa's motherly instincts.

"You shouldn't eat so much chocolate," she admonished him, but he had already removed the wrapping and was studying the next card.

"Mum?" he said, his voice suddenly faint.

"Hm?" Lisa had picked up the Dumbledore card and was studying the old wizard's face. It looked kind, but according to 'Hogwarts, a History' there had been a will of steel and a calculating mind behind the grandfatherly exterior.

"Mum, look, how cool is this?"

Lisa leaned towards him and glanced at the card.

There was a picture of a black-clad, scowling man. Pale, thin face, black curtains of hair. 'Severus Snape' the caption said. With a small sound of disbelief she took the card from Nathan, turned it over and started to read.

'Severus Tobias Snape, born January 9, 1960, Hogwarts Potions Master (1980-1996) Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts (1996-1997), and Headmaster (1997-1998). Member of the Order of the Phoenix; used his earlier connections with the Death Eaters to spy on Voldemort and was instrumental in bringing about the Dark wizard's downfall. Snape was a close confidant of Albus Dumbledore whom he had to murder as part of the great wizard's scheme to save the wizarding world. Badly wounded in the Battle of Hogwarts. Since his recovery he has been leading a secluded life; publishes regularly in 'Potions Quarterly'.'

"Wicked," breathed Nathan. "That's Severus, isn't it?"

Lisa nodded.

"He was a professor at Hogwarts and the headmaster and – look what it says here, Mum! – he was a spy?"

"So it seems."

"Like James Bond?"

"Mmmm. Perhaps."

"Wicked. Oh, Mum, that's so exciting, why has he never said anything?"

"I don't know. Perhaps because of this."

She pointed at the sentence about Dumbledore.

Her son read it again, biting his lower lip thoughtfully.

"It says he had to murder him."

The boy looked at the card again.

"What's a 'scheme', Mum?"

"You plan something very carefully."

"What's a 'confidant'?"

"Someone you trust and tell things, someone you share secrets with. Like a good friend"

"They planned that Severus would have to kill his friend?"

"That's what it says here."

"The one who sacrificed himself? Dumbledore?"

"Yes, that's what it says."

"That's... very sad, isn't it? It must be hard to kill someone you know... just because of a plan..."

The boy's forefinger rubbed the surface of the card absent-mindedly. Snape-in-the-picture's scowl deepened.

"... I'm sure it makes you feel miserable and guilty for the rest of your life."

Lisa looked at her son curiously, amazed at his extraordinary empathy and insight.

"Yes, it must be hard indeed," she said slowly, "unbelievably hard. And... I think Severus is still seized with remorse and is suffering for what he had to do and feels guilty."

"He's so cool... and so brave."

For a moment they were silent, each of them occupied with their own train of thoughts.

"Do you think he knows about the cards?" Nathan asked.

Mmm. Now, this was an interesting idea. Did he know about them? Had he wanted to tell them in this way? But in this case, why had he been so furious about what had happened in Diagon Alley?

"Can we visit him and show him the card and ask him?"

Lisa looked at her watch and frowned. It was past eight o'clock, with the new term starting the following day.

"No, not tonight, Nat. It's late."

"Tomorrow then?"

She hesitated, wondering if it was a good idea to give in to her son's eager eyes. In the end she decided to throw caution and doubts to the wind, smiled and took a deep breath.

"Yes, Nathan, tomorrow."

The evening of January 3rd found Severus Snape in his living-room, sitting in his favourite armchair next to the fireplace, reading one of his newly acquired books, occasionally picking up a pencil and marking passages or scribbling comments in the margin. He had done his best to keep up his routine, to busy himself with the small day-to-day activities and not to think of his neighbours.

He knew that Lisa had been out on New Year's Eve; in the middle of a sleepless night he had heard her return by taxi in the small hours. There had been more people in the taxi, he had heard laughter and talking. On New Year's Day he had neither seen nor heard anything of her until she had left the house in the evening, for work, by the look of it. He also knew that Nathan was back. He, too, had arrived in a taxi, together with his father, at six o'clock on Saturday evening. They had not been out on Sunday, probably Lisa had been right about Nathan being jetlagged.

This morning she had left for work and Nathan had gone to school. The day had been quiet. The day had been bad. His leg had bothered him more than usual, the tremor in his hands had thwarted his plans to replenish his stock of sleeping draught, his entire body had been stiff and aching. He had spent the long hours in his armchair, trying to read, waiting for the double dose of his extra strong pain potion to take effect, grimacing wryly as he remembered Lisa's reproachful surmise that he'd had to increase the dosage over the years in order to make it work. For dinner he had heated a tin of beans and toasted two slices of bread. He had washed the few dirty dishes in the sink and made tea. After that he had taken his mug through into the living-room to his armchair for more reading, forcing his mind to focus on the book.

A soft knock on his front door made him jump. The book fell from his lap. He must have dozed off.

He looked at the clock on the mantle. Half past six. Who came to see him now? He didn't want visitors, best not to open the door. But the lights were on, he couldn't pretend to be out.

Another knock, halting, hesitating.

Sighing wearily he pushed himself from his armchair and went to the window, peering through the blades to find out who was disturbing his solitude. When he recognized the two figures on his doorstep, his mouth went dry and his heart quickened its beat. Lisa and Nathan.

His legs felt like lead when he limped to his front door. He opened it and looked from Lisa's customary sheepish grin down into Nathan's smiling, excited face. The boy had his right hand pressed to his chest, as if he was hiding something in his palm.

"Nat wants to say thanks for the Christmas present," Lisa began after an awkward moment of silent staring.

"Yes, thank you very much," her son added, beaming at Snape.

The wizard nodded. For a moment he hesitated, thinking about shutting his door again, but then he stepped aside to let them in. As soon as he had closed the door, Nathan presented him with what had been hidden in his palm. Severus recognized it: A chocolate frog card. But what…?

Slowly he took the card from Nathan's excited fingers and examined it. Lisa and her son watched him closely. His expression went from curious to disbelieving to thunderstruck, aghast and stunned. And then he turned clumsily and went to the fireplace, staring into the dying flames, with his back to his visitors, ignoring them.

Lisa and Nathan exchanged a glance and Lisa shook her head helplessly. Never in her life had she felt so completely out of her depth.

It was her son who finally took the initiative. Going up to Severus he touched his wrist.

"Can you tell me about everything? How you were you spy and all that?"

Snape looked down at Nathan's expectant eyes and then turned his head and searched his mother's. He still looked dazed, as if in shock. Lisa answered with a hesitant smile and a slow, encouraging nod and Snape's eyes returned to the boy.

"Yes, Nathan, if you'd like to hear about it…"

"But not tonight," Lisa intervened, stopping her son's outburst of excitement, "I think it's going to be a rather long story and it's getting late. We can do it on Sunday."

Nathan's lower lip was pushed forward in disappointment, but Snape nodded.

"Yes, on Sunday."

Lisa watched him closely. All the colour had gone from his face. Was he going to faint again? Was he in shock? But if seeing the card had upset him so much…there was only one explanation for his reaction.

"You didn't know about these cards?"

It was a statement rather than a question.

Raking a hand through his hair he took a deep breath and shook his head.

"No. No, I didn't. Of course not. I mean, they've had these cards for ages. Students were collecting them. I thought it would be fun for Nathan to learn about some of our ancient wizarding celebrities. I had absolutely no idea… I mean, who would think of something like this… putting me in the same line as famous wizards like … like Merlin or…"

"Cornelius Agrippa," Nathan helped him out.

Snape shot him a quick smile.

"Yes, Cornelius Agrippa or…"

"Dumbledore?" Lisa asked softly.

He nodded curtly, his face a painful grimace.

"Or Dumbledore. It's ridiculous, downright idiotic," he said.

"Perhaps it means that you are famous, too?" she remarked in the same soft tone.

Again he grimaced, and snorted violently.

"Yes, of course he's famous, he's a hero!" the boy exclaimed. "You must promise to tell me everything, the whole story, like did you have any gadgets when you were a spy?"

"Gadgets?" Snape looked at him, bemused.

"Yes, like James Bond. He always gets special watches and things like that. With hidden weapons and radios."

The wizard's mouth twitched.

"I had my wand," he said dryly.

"Your wand…nothing else?" Nathan's eyes were round with awe. "Wicked. Oh, that's so cool. You must tell me everything."

A smile had found its way to Snape's face. He nodded solemnly.

"Yes, I promise, Nathan, everything, the whole story."

Pushing her son gently towards the door, Lisa held out her hand.

"Perhaps it was meant to happen like this," she said softly, "perhaps it's all for the best."

He looked at her doubtfully, raising his hand slowly, waiting an endless moment before taking hers. His fingers were cold. Lisa squeezed them gently. He squeezed back and she thought she saw the relief she felt mirrored in the blackness of his eyes.

"See you on Sunday then," she said warmly, before turning and reaching for the doorknob.


	19. Chapter 19

_The usual disclaimers apply_

**Chapter nineteen**

Lisa returned from the kitchen, carrying two mugs of tea. She stopped in the doorway, taking in the unexpected sight of Severus' head resting against the back of the armchair, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open, his left arm dangling loosely over the armrest. Poor man, he was exhausted.

With a reminiscent little shake of her head she recalled his incredulous face when he had arrived in the afternoon and found out that she had remembered his birthday from the chocolate frog card and had made him a cake. It had been all too obvious that he wasn't used to celebrating his birthdays. Nathan had made a birthday card for him, which he accepted with a shaking hand and the same disbelieving frown. It had taken him a few moments of staring at the brightly coloured crayon flowers and the round schoolboy's handwriting as if it was one of the wonders of the world, before his voice agreed to say 'thank you'.

Lisa had made tea and hot chocolate to go with the cake, and then Severus had started telling Nathan his story about Deatheaters and Voldemort and his own involvement in the troubles of the wizarding world. Given the enormity of the events it was not an easy task, but Lisa's concerns were soon laid at rest as she realised that he managed to adapt the story to the ears of a nine year old boy. Without glossing over the aberrations of his youth he spared Nathan the gorier and more sordid details. When he came to his own part in saving both the wizarding and the Muggle world from falling under the sway of Dark Magic he continued in his detached, matter-of-fact way, mentioning oppression and punishment , rebellions and battles while touching only briefly on bloodshed and torture. And all the time he answered Nathan's never-ending questions about spying and wizarding warfare patiently.

Later Lisa had prepared dinner and after the meal, when the umpteenth question had been answered and the dishwasher had started humming through its cycle, she had sent her son to bed. For once the boy had obeyed without any protest. His head was filled to the brim with all the information he had gained from Severus, and he had gladly gone to his room to digest everything and dream about the adventures of his newly-found hero, Severus Snape.

Lisa put the mugs on the coffee table and Severus opened his eyes, sniffing curiously.

"Sage?" he asked.

"Yes, it's supposed to be good for your throat."

Talking more or less nonstop for a solid five hours had put a strain on his voice.

Smiling approvingly he picked up his mug and took a small sip, closing his eyes with relief when the hot liquid eased the soreness of his throat.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, sitting down on the sofa.

He took a deep breath and another sip.

"I'm… fine, I think. Today was the best birthday of my life."

He offered her one of his reluctant smiles and she smiled back automatically. The best birthday of his life. Heavens, this man was forty-six years old, and a simple chocolate cake and an afternoon of revealing his dark past to an inquisitive boy and his anxious mother had been the best birthday of his life!

She knew he really meant it, it wasn't just polite verbiage, and she wanted to hug him for his frankness, wanted to make up for all the birthdays gone uncelebrated; but the aura of reserve he wore at all times held her back. So she just smiled, colouring slightly.

"I'm glad it's over. I'm glad Nathan accepted it so easily," he added with a little sigh.

Lisa laughed.

"You did a very good job. He thinks you are a second Superman."

"I'm what?"

"Oh… a movie hero with supernatural powers who's always saving the world."

"I see. Well, he's right, isn't he? About the supernatural powers, I mean. I'm a wizard," he replied dryly.

Again they shared a smile.

"And what do you think now?" he asked, and his smile had gone.

Lisa's forefinger circled the tip of her nose thoughtfully. They had heard everything about how Severus had joined the Death Eaters, how his ambition to please his dark master had been the cause of his friend's death, how he had gone over to the other side and, as an atonement, had committed himself to the task of being a double agent and protecting his friend's son. They had learned about the dangers of spying on Voldemort, of the hardships of pretending to be a loyal Death Eater still. Nathan had listened, wide-eyed, barely daring to breathe, taking in the information like an adventure story. But Lisa, already familiar with the main facts, had been able to concentrate on the undercurrents of Snape's story and had been wondering about their significance all afternoon. She had wanted to ask him, the question had been on the tip of her tongue all along, but she had bitten it back, not sure whether he would react kindly if she brought up the issue with Nathan present. Now, however, she decided to finally take the plunge.

"I've been wondering… Severus… have you ever been happy in all your life?"

He stared at her for a few seconds, then looked away, studying his hands in his lap.

"Happy," he repeated softly, as if trying to understand the meaning of the word, "happy… well…"

He raised his eyes, bemused.

"Define 'happy', please."

Now it was her turn to stare. 'Define happy'? Whatever for? Didn't everybody just know what 'happy' was?

"I… don't understand…"

He sighed impatiently.

"Happy about work well-done, about a potion successfully brewed, about some student's misbehavior justly dealt with… if you mean that, I was happy many times."

'Work', 'potions', 'some student's misbehavior justly dealt with' – Good Lord!

"No… I mean, yes, sure, maybe, but there's another kind of 'happy', Severus. When you are just happy for no particular reason, happy to exist, happy with yourself, with other people… simply… happy. Oh, I'm sure you know what I mean."

She waited, holding her breath, afraid that she had gone too far.

His head jerked up and his eyes caught hers. They weren't angry, just very, very grave.

"Yes, there were times when I was that kind of happy. For example, I was happy this afternoon. I'm happy now. Every time I was with you and Nathan… I was… am happy."

Now it was her turn to look away, blushing with embarrassment.

"Thank you, that's very kind of you," she whispered.

He shook his head.

"I need to thank you. At first I was less than enthusiastic about the task of mentoring Nathan. I would have found a way to refuse, but somehow both of you…you wouldn't let it go, you weren't scared off by my appearance and harsh words, you simply were there, quietly and stubbornly insistent, you didn't leave me much of a choice and so…."

He shrugged.

"You gave my life a new purpose and contrary to what I expected it made me happy. Your kind of happy."

He took another sip of his tea. Lisa was too overwhelmed with what she had just heard to think of a suitable reply. They sat in silence, carefully avoiding each other's eyes.

Suddenly a noise at the window made Lisa jump.

"What's that?"

She went over and opened the curtain. There was frantic movement in the top right hand corner of the window, a fluttering of wings and something scratching against the pane. A bird? But what on earth….

"It's an owl," said Severus who had left his chair, too, and was standing right behind her.

"An owl? But what…? Oh, you mean one of your mail carrying birds?"

"Yes, an owl. Let it in, it won't rest until it has reached the recipient of its letter."

Lisa opened the window and the bird flew in, flapping its wings indignantly and landing in front of Severus. It lifted its leg, presenting him with a small roll of parchment. Snape untied the string and the bird looked at him expectantly.

"Have you got a biscuit?" he asked Lisa, snatching his hand away from the attack of the sharp beak.

"A biscuit? Why?"

"They expect it as a reward for good services."

Laughing and shaking her head Lisa fetched a half-empty packet of digestives from the kitchen. Severus shook one out, broke it in half and offered it to the owl. The bird picked it up, ducked its head gratefully, spread its wings and flew off. Lisa closed the window.

"How did it know you were here?" she asked Snape.

"They deliver mail to a person rather than an address, owls are able to find the recipient of a letter wherever he or she is. They don't have to bother with addresses."

"That's a good idea, although, honestly, you wizards could have thought of something to do against the mess."

She fetched a tissue from a box on the coffee table and removed an owl dropping from the window sill. Meanwhile Severus had opened his letter and was reading it, a deep frown between his brows.

"Bad news?" Lisa asked, trying not to sound curious.

"No, no bad news. Actually…" he sighed and looked at the letter again, "quite the opposite, from Minerva's point of view…"

"Minerva?"

"The headmistress of Hogwarts."

"What is it?"

"One of her cousins works for St. Mungo's, the wizarding hospital. She met him over Christmas and he told her that they were developing a promising treatment for restoring nerves damaged by Dark Magic. So far this condition has been incurable."

"Nerve damage by Dark Magic? Is that what you suffer from, Severus? Does this letter mean there is a cure for your injuries?"

"Perhaps not a cure, but some relief."

"But that's brilliant, isn't it?"

"Is it?"

"Your leg would be better and you wouldn't be in so much pain any more."

"Perhaps. They are still in the testing phase. I would be one of their human guinea pigs. It would mean staying at St. Mungo's, being poked and prodded by healers and nurses, being under surveillance all day, seven days a week, without any chance of privacy…"

"But it's a limited time and if it the treatment is successful and you are better afterwards your life will be so much easier, don't you agree? I think it's worth a try."

"What about Nathan's lessons?"

"He has learned so much already, he can manage a few weeks without you. How long would you have to stay in hospital?"

"I'm not sure… it says here that the treatment is a rather lengthy and exhausting affair. It's a combination of potions, spells and Muggle physiotherapy."

He frowned. "That's the method you mentioned once, isn't it?"

"Yes," she confirmed proudly.

"What exactly does it comprise?"

"You do exercises and get therapeutic massages, they also work with mud packs…

With a disgusted grimace he rolled up the letter.

"I don't think it's worth the trouble…"

Lisa bit back a laugh and looked at him thoughtfully.

"Shall I demonstrate it to you? I can do a little bit."

"Well…"

"Humour me, Severus, please. There won't be any mud packs tonight, don't worry."

He shrugged.

"You need to bare your neck and shoulders."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Please."

Exhaling noisily he pulled his jumper over his head and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it halfway down his back. There was still his vest, but she decided to let it be for the moment.

"I'll be back soon."

Running up the stairs she fetched some body lotion from the bathroom. It would have to do, she had no massaging oil.

"Usually patients lie down on their stomachs, but we'll try it with you sitting up. We need to get your hair out of the way. Can you tie it into a ponytail?"

She handed him a red elastic band. With a very black look and an exasperated sigh he took the band and complied with her request.

Standing behind the armchair, she squeezed some of the lotion on her hands, glad that they were warm for a change, and put them on his shoulders. He stiffened slightly, but didn't move.

Slowly she started working her thumbs along his neck and shoulders, suppressing a gasp when she saw the full extent of his scarring.

"Does this hurt?" she asked, gently running her fingers over the puckered skin.

"No, not any longer," he said, and she continued her work, feeling the hardness of his tense muscles, kneading them gently.

After some time she felt him relax and lean into her touch. Her hands continued their work, slipping under the grayish-white cotton fabric of his vest, stroking his bony shoulders, his slender neck…

It wasn't unpleasant at all. After the initial discomfort of having strange hands touching his body, Severus enjoyed the sensation of tense muscles loosening, of the relaxing warmth spreading through his neck and shoulders. The headache that had been lurking at the back of his head for most of the afternoon receded. Her hands on his skin, soft, warm and strong, kneading their way up and down his neck and shoulders, accepting his scars, it felt good. And he felt something else, something stirring in an entirely different region of his body, something he had thought long dead. He rearranged the jumper on his thighs, making sure she couldn't see.

Inwardly he tried to sneer. His foolish crippled body…it was pathetic. The idea itself was preposterous. She would never even give it a second's thought… What had come over him? She was his neighbour, she was Nathan's mother… and she was a woman, attractive, intelligent, warm-hearted, caring …he rather liked her, he… No, impossible, not any more, not after the bitter experiences of his past… not after… Lily. But that had been so long ago, in another life. Things had changed, had turned into unexpected directions. Perhaps… what if his body were whole again, if he decided to go to St. Mungo's to undergo the new treatment and if it really worked, what if… Merlin! Don't be a fool, Snape. He had to put a stop to this, before the reaction of his body could get out of control. His hand went up to stop hers. He grabbed her wrist and turned round. She blinked. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing fast… Sweet Merlin, could it be? Did she have similar sensations? What did she see in him? Never, in all his memory, had a woman looked at him like this. Did it really mean…? Damn it, his experience with women was so limited. He had no idea if he was reading the signs correctly. Should he follow his body's instincts, get up, half-dressed as he was, pull her close and kiss her? She seemed to be as undecided and uncertain as he was, staring at him….

Another fluttering and scratching at the window. They both jumped. Another owl? Pulling her arm away Lisa went over and opened the window, while Severus hastily arranged his clothing. Another bird swept in, larger than the first one, depositing an official looking role of parchment. It accepted the other half of the Digestive and flew off again. Lisa closed the window.

"You seem to be very much in demand tonight," she said.

Severus opened the letter and scanned it. He laughed out in disbelief.

"This is from St. Mungo's. They are informing me about the new therapy and inviting me to participate in the first official round of treatment."

"They all care for you, Severus."

He snorted.

"I happen to be their most prominent guinea pig, that's all."

She looked at the parchment in his hands, at the official letterhead of the hospital.

"Are you going to do it?" she asked.

He sighed, looking past the half-opened curtains into the night. Giving up his precious privacy… giving up the life he had chosen for himself and had become accustomed to for an uncertain outcome… it was a hard decision. But then…he swallowed hard as he remembered her hands on his shoulders, the expression in her eyes… the promise it had held. Should it be possible after all these years of misery and solitude to find… affection, to find… what? Love, yes… LOVE! There… his head had accepted the word and suddenly he wanted this promise to be fulfilled, wanted it more than anything else. And he wanted to have a body that could fulfill the promise.

"Yes," he said, softly, as if to himself. And then louder, looking at her, attempting a smile, "yes, I'll do it."

She smiled back, her usual sheepish smile. She tried to speak, but had to clear her throat first.

"Good," she finally managed to say hoarsely, "very good."


	20. Chapter 20

_Thanks to all of you who left a review for the last chapter or added this story to their list of favourite stories etc. I really appreciate your feedback, but I'm very busy at the moment and so, left with the choice between answering emails or finishing the new chapter, I opted for the latter. I hope you'll forgive me._

_The usual disclaimers apply._

**Chapter twenty**

Lisa looked around her gleaming bathroom with satisfaction. It was 4 o'clock on a Saturday afternoon in April. Nathan was spending the weekend with his father and she had worked the night shift. After sleeping through all of Saturday morning and enjoying a late, lazy breakfast around noon she had now just finished cleaning the house and was looking forward to giving herself a treat with the large tub of Ben&Jerry's Ice Cream bought and stowed away in the freezer the day before.

She was collecting the dirty towels to put them in the washing machine when the doorbell rang.

"Oh, bother!" she said under her breath, punching the 'start'-button on the washing-machine with unnecessary force. She wanted to eat her ice cream now, curled up on her sofa in front of the TV, wearing her favourite tracksuit bottoms and an old oversized t-shirt, she didn't want any visitors. She didn't expect anybody. Perhaps it was only a couple of Jehova's Witnesses armed with the 'Watchtower' and intent on discussing the Bible. She was well-practised in getting rid of them. Perhaps it would be best if she ignored the ringing altogether.

The doorbell started again, someone was keeping their finger on the button, someone had to be very eager to see her. Somehow it didn't sound like Jehova's Witnesses.

She went through the living-room, accompanied by the constant ringing, and opened the door.

"Lisa! Thank Merlin you're at home," an elderly woman exclaimed, "you must come at once!"

"Er…?"

Lisa was sure she had never met the woman before, she would have remembered the stern face, the square glasses and the obvious penchant for tartan.

"You are Lisa McGregor, aren't you?"

"Yes, but…"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Minerva McGonagall."

Somewhere in the back of Lisa's mind a bell was ringing. She had heard the name before, but where? And when?

"I've just been to St. Mungo's…"

"Severus?" Feeling very faint suddenly Lisa had to hold on to the doorpost for support.

"Perhaps you should sit down," the witch said kindly.

Taking a deep breath Lisa nodded and ushered the woman into the house.

"How is he?" she asked when they were seated.

"He wants to leave St. Mungo's, the foolish man wants to discharge himself. I need your help."

Severus had been away for almost three months now and she had not had any news from him at all. Why did this woman need her help?

"Has the treatment been successful?"

"Yes, but now is not the time to go into details, Mrs McGregor. We must leave at once or he will do something stupid. You have a back garden? Good, then we can apparate from there."

Lisa wanted to say that she needed to change, she needed to brush her hair, she…

However, the older woman had already got up and was on her way into the kitchen, leaving Lisa no choice but to follow her. Outside on the patio the witch extended her arm for Lisa to take and then there was the turning on the spot, the strange, unpleasant feeling of tightness, the blackness, and when they finally emerged from all that they were in a corner of what looked like a reception hall, with people appearing out of thin air all around them.

"St. Mungo's", Minerva McGonagall announced and hurried on. Lisa followed in her wake, looking around curiously. The place looked like… well, a hospital. The people were the same motley crowd as in Diagon Alley, some patients waiting in the queue at the reception desk sported strange looking injuries, there was a man with horrible boils all over his face, neck and hands and a girl whose lip had swollen so much in size that it completely obscured the rest of her face. The nurses' uniforms were of an unusual lime green colour, but all in all the atmosphere was very familiar.

They entered a lift together with a man whose ears had grown to the size of dinner plates and a mother with two young children whose skin had turned a greenish blue colour. The man pressed the button for the fourth floor ('Spell Damage'), while Minerva McGonagall impatiently punched the one for the first floor, labeled 'Creature Induced Injuries and Annexe'.

When the doors of the lift slid open they turned left and went along a long corridor and down a short flight of stairs into what looked like a brand-new building – so this was the 'annexe', Lisa thought - and found themselves opposite a glass cubicle and large double glass doors, behind which another door leading into yet another long corridor could be seen. The glass doors were locked, a sign on the wall informed visitors to please ring the bell. The witch pressed a button next to the door and a harassed looking nurse appeared. When she recognized Minerva McGonagall, her face relaxed into a smile, she, too, pressed a button and made the doors swing open.

"Thank Merlin you are back," the nurse greeted them, eyeing Lisa with open curiosity. "You have to change into sterile clothing, I'm afraid, and put on these masks and gloves. Patients on this ward are extremely vulnerable and usually not allowed any contact with the world outside. And you must leave your wands here… Oh, but you probably haven't got one, have you?"

Lisa shook her head and obediently changed into lime green scrubs, leaving her own clothes in a locker. Minerva McGonagall did the same, reluctantly depositing her wand on top of her neatly folded pile of clothes. Then they followed the nurse through the second door and down the corridor to the last room on the left, where a large, pink-faced man in lime green was waiting. He nodded a greeting and his face lost some of its anxiousness.

Before he could say anything Lisa had stepped closer to the door and was peering through the glass panel at the top. There was only one bed in the room, and it was empty. On the chair at the small table in front of the window there was an old-fashioned carpet bag. It was open, as if someone was in the process of packing.

And there was Severus. He was fully dressed in his formal, black wizarding attire, and he was pacing the room, reminding Lisa of a panther in a zoo, a dangerous, angry, but also very tired and exhausted panther. His limp had almost gone, his movements were less cramped and pain ridden, but he had to stop every now and then and rest, steadying himself on the back of the chair or the end of the bed. He also seemed to have lost weight, the contours of his body were hardly perceptible under the layers of black cloth, the cheeks in his angular, pale face were hollow and his nose seemed more prominent than ever.

The man – doctor? nurse? put a hand on her arm, guiding her away from the door.

"You are the Muggle nurse?" he asked, and when Lisa confirmed with a nod, he continued, "Thank Merlin you were able to come so quickly. I'm Healer Summers and I really hope you can make him see reason. I've locked him in the room, but if he doesn't stop trying to get away I must have him restrained. He wants to leave, but I can't allow it. The treatment is complete, everything has worked out just perfectly so far, but his condition is still very fragile and he is extremely vulnerable. Any unpremeditated contact with magic could cause damage. It would be absolutely foolish to put everything we have achieved at risk by his leaving the ward and the hospital now."

"Do you know that he lives in a Muggle neighbourhood? Their won't be any magic but his own."

"Which he is strictly forbidden to use. How can he cope without magic at home?"

"I can help him."

The healer looked at her doubtfully.

"Be that as it may, but he is also extremely prone to common infections. A simple flu virus could kill him. It will really be for the best if he stays until both his magical aura and his immune system are back to normal and stable."

"I see."

The healer scratched his head.

"Not that I wouldn't be glad if we saw the last of him, mind you. I've never had a more difficult and un-cooperative patient in all my career. He questioned every step of the therapy suspiciously, as if we were about to poison him. Even when he was extremely weakened by the therapeutical spells and potions he managed to make our junior nurses run from his room in tears. One of them absolutely refused to go near him again. He has the most acerbic tongue I've ever heard and nobody is safe from it if he's in a foul mood, which he seems to be most of the time. We're all looking forward to the day we can discharge him, we certainly won't keep him here a second longer than what is absolutely necessary – as soon as he's well enough to cope outside.

This morning, when he insisted on leaving and wouldn't listen to me, I alerted Minerva and she told us about you; she said you were his neighbour and closest friend at the moment and, moreover, a nurse – so perhaps you can convince him to stay."

Lisa stepped forward and looked through the glass panel again. Severus was sitting on the bed now, staring at the opposite wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"I'll see what I can do," she said.

"Right, I'll leave you to it then. Good luck," the healer replied with a deep sigh, "I'll be in my office." He strode away quickly.

The nurse turned the key in the lock and opened the door. Severus didn't move.

"So you're back. Have you brought the fetters?" he snarled without turning his head.

"I've come to visit you," Lisa said quietly. She heard the nurse close the door behind her, heard the key turn in the lock. The noise sent a shudder down her spine. Now everything depended on her.

Very slowly Snape turned round.

"You?" The single syllable contained a symphony of disbelief.

"U-hu. And I'm glad to hear that the treatment has been successful."

"Yes, it has, and it's finished, there's nothing more for me to do here, but this obstinate, inept, good-for-nothing fool of a healer won't let me go home," he replied bitterly, "he keeps me prisoner here."

"Didn't he explain to you why you have to stay here?"

"Oh, yes, he did, in ever so many words. The gist is that it would be too dangerous for me out there. Ridiculous. As if I couldn't take care of myself. I've done so all my life."

"This is different, Severus. From what I understand the treatment has left you very vulnerable to both magical influences and to infections. Why do you think I have to wear these?"

She indicated the lime green scrubs, the gloves and the surgical mask in front of her mouth.

"Because it is very becoming?" he answered, the shadow of a smirk passing his face.

"Haha, very funny," she retorted. "Anyway, it would be madness jeopardizing everything that has been achieved so far by not following their advice. If you became ill…"

He jumped up angrily – and had to steady himself against the wall.

"I'm more likely to become ill if I have to stay here for another four weeks. You don't know what it's like here…"

"As a matter of fact I do, Severus. I work in a hospital, remember? The treatment you had to undergo here seems to be similar to chemotherapy – a method we employ against cancer," she explained when she saw his quizzical frown, "which also leaves patients extremely weak and vulnerable. You must rebuild your immune system before you can go home and strengthen whatever it is that makes you cope with magic."

"I'm so fed up with everything here. It's like a prison."

She shrugged.

"It's only another four weeks."

"28 days, 672 hours, 40320 minutes, 241920 seconds of absolute boredom."

"Er… right."

She couldn't help smiling at this virtuoso performance of arithmetic and was glad that half of her face was hidden behind the surgical mask.

"You have your books…"

"They've given me…what? four books, no, wait, five. 'A little light reading' they said," he sneered, picking up a battered looking paperback from the bedside table. "Two silly Muggle novels and three volumes by Gilderoy –bloody- Lockhard. Mindless, stupid tripe. At home I have the books that really…

"Perhaps I'll be allowed to send you some if you write down what you need. I'll ask Minerva McGonagall for help with the owls…"

"I need the books for my research, but I also need to brew, to experiment with ingredients…"

"Oh, I'm sure you can make do with the theory for the time being, your experiments can wait another four weeks, Severus."

He snorted.

"My house needs looking after. I have some valuable plants in my backyard…"

Lisa couldn't help rolling her eyes.

"Perhaps you didn't notice, but it's been an exceptionally warm and wet spring this year, it has been raining for most of the last three months. Your plants should be fine. I can look after the house if you give me the key or tell me how to get in. I'll get everything ready for your return, do some cleaning, fill the fridge…"

"And create havoc among my things? No, I don't think so."

He started pacing the room again.

She watched him in exasperation. He was bored, so what? A stay in hospital wasn't supposed to be exciting, all patients had to be… well, patient and bow to the inevitable if they wanted to become well. His arguments for going home had been more than weak; it was pure pigheadedness that made him want to discharge himself. What could she do in order to make him see reason? So far he hadn't been responsive to her reasoning at all. And he was driving her mad with his pacing. She stepped in his way. He stopped. They were staring at each other, angrily, defiantly. Then he lowered his gaze, exhaling violently.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake! Alright…most of all I… miss you and Nathan."

She stared at him, not sure if she had heard correctly; his last words had been barely audible.

"You… oh, Severus…I…"

She reached out and touched his arms. She felt him flinch, but didn't loosen her grip, silently marvelling how thin he had become.

"Severus… I didn't know… I didn't think…"

He snorted contemptuously.

"I can ask if it is possible for us to visit you. Nathan has been asking to see you anyway. Perhaps if this McGonagall woman…"

"You don't have to go out of your way to keep me entertained," he said haughtily.

"I don't intend to entertain you. I intend to nag you into getting well as soon as possible. We want you back, Severus."

"Do you, now?"

"Yes, of course. But we want you back strong and healthy."

An undetermined flicker of emotion passed across his face and she could feel him shaking with exhaustion. Gently she guided him to the bed and helped him sit down, lowering herself next to him. They were sitting with their backs to the door, their elbows touching. He didn't speak, his head was bowed, he was staring at his hands, which rested in his lap, fingers intertwined. She could sense the waves of tension radiating from him and watched him from the corner of her eye, not daring to move, hardly daring to breathe, as if he was a bomb and movement or noise might make him explode any moment.

At long last his hands relaxed. His left hand touched her thigh very briefly, ever so fleetingly, as he pushed himself up from the bed and went to the door. He rapped at it.

"Summers!" he called out. Hurried steps could be heard in the corridor. The key turned, the door opened and a small crowd appeared in the doorway. The healer, the nurse who had received them into the ward and Minerva McGonagall, while two male nurses with the physique of heavyweight boxers were waiting in the background, peering over their shoulders.

"You can send your goons away, I'm staying," Snape said brusquely, turned and started unpacking his bag.

For a moment the healer looked from Lisa to Snape and back again as if doubting what he had just heard. Lisa gave him a confirming smile and he recovered instantly, approaching Severus with a wide grin on his round face.

"That's a very good decision, Mr Snape. Excellent. I knew you would come to your senses. So why don't we relieve you of these heavy robes first, get you into bed and then bring you your strengthening potion and perhaps a nice cup of tea afterwards?"

He cast a meaningful glance in the direction of the two male nurses, who disappeared. The female nurse came in, smiling nervously and disguising her apprehension with an air brisk efficiency. She went over to Severus and, taking his arm, led him back to the bed, helping him to shed his outer layer of black. He looked over his shoulder, giving Lisa a reproachful stare.

She smiled back, held up four fingers and gave him the thumbs up.

He rolled his eyes and shrugged the nurse away.

"I'm perfectly able to do this myself and in my own time. Just go and bring me the potion."

Healer Summers raised a warning finger at him, but Snape merely scowled. The healer sighed, went up to the bed and felt his patient's pulse while addressing Minerva McGonagall and Lisa.

"He needs rest. You should say good-bye now; but as you are a nurse and under the condition that you strictly follow our rules, we can make an exception as far as regular visits are concerned. So if you can organize…" with a meaningful wave of his hand in Lisa's direction he looked at Minerva McGonagall. The witch nodded. "Excellent, excellent. Ten minutes, Minerva, the nurse will show you out."

He left, leaving the door open.

"So you've finally come to your senses, Severus. I was wondering if you'd lost your marbles, behaving in such a childish way. Honestly, Severus, throwing a tantrum at your age."

Minerva McGonagall was underlining her words with a disapproving shake of her head. Snape scowled and opened his mouth for a retort but then thought better of it and just grimaced. He hoisted himself into a more comfortable position on the bed before speaking.

"Lisa said she would like to visit me. Do you think you can arrange some means of transportation, Minerva?" he asked quietly.

"Of course I can. Not every day, I'm very busy, Severus, but we could agree on visits once or twice a week."

The witch cast an enquiring look at Lisa, who nodded.

"That's agreed then. I also understand that you are dissatisfied with the hospital's choice of books. You can write a list of the books you want and send them to Hogwarts by owl. I will then go to Spinner's End and…"

"No, you can't. The place is too heavily warded."

"I'm sure I can handle your wards. Just tell me what kind of spell you used…"

"No, Minerva, you can't. Some of my spells are very special."

"Special? What do mean… special?" The witch bristled visibly. "I'm familiar with all kinds of spells which can be used for warding houses."

"Not with these. They are really … special."

She eyed him suspiciously.

"'Special' as in 'Dark'?"

He shrugged non-committally. The witch sighed.

"Don't you think it's about time for you to shed your Death-Eater habits, Severus? When will you learn to trust people? Oh, alright, as there's nothing we can do about the wards right now, I'll bring you the books from the library at Hogwarts. Good-bye, Severus, see you next week."

She turned towards Lisa, saying, "I'll wait for you in the changing room," and left.

Lisa went over to the bed. With him sitting down their eyes were on the same level. Very slowly she raised her hand and then her gloved finger was brushing against his cheek.

"Only four weeks," she said.

His hand took hold of hers and brought her fingers to his lips.

"Only four weeks," he answered resignedly.

Smiling at him behind her mask and squeezing his hand encouragingly she left the room to join Minerva McGonagall.

Snape stared after her. Four weeks. He looked around the room. Somehow her presence had changed it, it seemed less bleak than before. Only four weeks. He closed his eyes, recalling her voice. Only four weeks…

And when the nurse returned with his potions and a cup of tea, for the first time in three months he didn't greet her with one of his angry scowls.


	21. Chapter 21

_Hi there, dear readers, just in case you wondered – I'm still alive and writing. Thanks for all the kind feedback, as always, it is very much appreciated._

_The usual disclaimers apply.  
_

**Chapter twenty-one**

The atmosphere on Lisa's patio was frosty. This had nothing at all to do with the weather, which was as balmy as it could get on an English afternoon in May. But the blue sky and brilliant sunshine, the soft breeze carrying the scent of lilac went unnoticed by the four people sitting around the small teak table, Lisa, Nathan, Severus and Lisa's ex-husband. It was the latter who was responsible for the chill.

"Do you really expect me to believe this nonsense?"

"It isn't nonsense, it's the truth, Nick. I know it's hard to believe, it sounds incredible, but if you stop getting all worked up and reflect about things for a moment, perhaps you'll recognize the signs. You probably remember the weird things that happened to Nat from time to time, even when he was very young, the problems he had at school…"

"Dad, that was because I'm a wizard, but now I can control my magic. I've learned a lot about it, I can already do…"

Mr McGregor dismissed the protestations of his family with an angry shake of his head and turned to the fourth member of the party.

"And you claim to be a wizard,too, Mr…eh…?"

"Snape," Severus said pleasantly, inclining his head. "Yes."

"I see. Able to do magic then, are we? Make objects move or change into something else? Transform white rabbits into handkerchiefs or vice versa? With a magic wand?"

Mr McGreogor's voice was dripping with sarcasm and he stared at the wizard belligerently.

A muscle in Snape's face twitched as he returned the stare.

Then, pulling his wand from his pocket with slow, deliberate, condescending care, he pointed it in the direction of Lisa's unbelieving husband, allowing it to hover with its tip near the man's heart for a moment, making him shrink back slightly, before lowering it and transfiguring his teacup into an orange and back again. Having done so, Snape sat back in his chair, watching the man's shock and confusion with mild amusement.

Mr McGregor took several deep breaths, struggling very hard to rearrange his features into an expression of righteous indignation.

"How did you do that? What kind of trick is it?"

"It's magic, Dad," Nathan piped up. "Severus can do loads of stuff like this. He's so cool. Show him something else, Severus, please."

With an indulgent shrug Snape pointed his wand at one of the potted tomato plants Lisa had arranged against the wall and made it zoom across the lawn and then hover in mid air over the table.

Nathan's father had overcome his shock by now and snorted contemptuously.

"Want to impress me with cheap tricks, do you? You've planned this in advance. I've no idea how you do it, but it's all tricks and illusions, everybody knows that these things can be done very convincingly."

Before Lisa could reply, Snape, with an expression of long-suffering patience, had moved his wand once again, returning the flower pot to its original position. Then he gave Mr McGregor a meaningful look, before pronouncing very distinctly and in a tone of voice kept carefully calm, "_Accio_ Mr McGregor's car key." There was a distant noise from inside the house, where Mr McGregor's jacket was hanging in the hall and the object came zooming through the open patio door. Severus caught it in his hand.

"I'm afraid it's no trick and no illusion, Mr McGregor, and it wasn't planned or prepared in advance; it's magic."

He handed the key to its owner, who accepted it with a shaking hand.

"I can do some magic too, Dad. I haven't got a wand yet, but I can do some things without one. May I, Severus?"

Snape nodded.

"Look!"

Nathan closed his eyes in concentration and one of the brownies Lisa had made for tea rose from the plate and landed in the palm of his outstretched hand.

Mr McGregor had become quite pale under his perennial tan. When he spoke he had to visibly make an effort to keep his voice under control.

"I don't know what you three are up to, but…"

"We are not up to anything, Mr MGregor. When you brought up the topic of which school to choose for Nathan with your… with Lisa a few days ago we thought it was time to tell you about Nathan's special talent. He is a wizard. This is an innate ability that can occur spontaneously in Muggle – non-magical – families or it can skip a few generations. Actually, as far as I know, he has inherited it from your side, Mr McGregor. One of your ancestors must have been a witch or a wizard."

Nathan's father shrugged and shook his head.

"Not that I know of."

"Usually children with magical abilities born into non-magical families are kept ignorant about their condition until the age of eleven, when they are due to start their magical education at Hogwarts. As it happens I found out about Nathan's magic accidentally and as he obviously kept getting into trouble because of it, I offered to apply for a permit to tutor him in order to help him get it under control. The education of young wizards enabling them to make full use of their magic is done at special schools, boarding schools mainly. In Britain this is Hogwarts. Nathan's name has been in their records since the day he was born, he will get his admission letter in a few weeks' time. After seven years of studying the most important elements of magic both in theory and practice he will sit his final exams and then he can start a career in the wizarding world."

"Boarding school for magic! What do you take me for? This is ridiculous! Lisa, if you think I'm going to pay a single penny for this nonsense, think again. I would have been more than willing to finance private education for my son had he wished to go to my old school, which offers an excellent education by the way, but magic… No."

Lisa shot Severus an anxious look. They had never talked about the costs… But Snape shook his head.

"Hogwarts is not expensive like Muggle boarding schools. It has its own funds and is heavily subsidised by the Ministry. Students only have to pay for their school things, robes, books, and so on."

Lisa's surreptitious sigh of relief was the only sound punctuating the silence that ensued.

Mr McGregor looked around the table. His eyes eventually discarded Lisa and Nathan and came to rest on Snape.

"I say… you seem to be an educated and sensible man after all, Mr Snape. Can you promise me that you are not taking the Mickey, that all this is true and that it will be the best for Nathan?"

"He will get one of the best magical educations in Europe."

"Did you attend this school, too?"

"For centuries almost every wizard in Britain has been educated at Hogwarts."

"Severus was headmaster there," said Nathan.

"You were headmaster? Then you can… hang on… past tense? Why did you quit?"Mr Mc Gregor rested his elbows on the table and stared at Snape over his folded hands with narrowed eyes. "You don't look old enough to be a pensioner. Was there any trouble? Were you offered a better job? You do look ill, though. Did you take early retirement?"

"He was very ill. He has just got out of hospital, after weeks of exhausting therapy. He returned home only a week ago," Lisa replied quickly, knowing perfectly well which connotations this bit of information would provoke.

Mr McGegor gave a small nod of sympathy. In his career he had seen many patients who'd had undergone chemotherapy. Snape looked just like one of them. Extremely frail, pale and thin. Surprisingly the man still had all his hair. Must have been a new, less aggressive kind of treatment.

He cleared his throat, calling himself to order, putting an abrupt end to what feelings of empathy had begun to germinate.

"These careers you were talking about – what exactly are they, Mr Snape?"

"Basically the same ones as in the Muggle world. Administration, finance, healthcare, education. For example you can work as an official for the Ministry…"

"Which Ministry?"

"The Ministry of Magic. The wizarding government, which regulates every aspect of life in the magical community. Or you can go into healthcare, become a healer or a nurse at the wizarding hospital, St. Mungo's…"

"You have a special hospital?"

"Yes, we have. There are magical illnesses, which are unknown to Muggles, and then, naturally, the healing at St. Mungo's generally is done by magic."

Mr McGregor leaned a bit closer towards Severus, his interest piqued.

"You can heal with magic?"

"Yes, of course. Experienced healers can mend broken bones within seconds with a simple movement of their wands."

"Really? Amazing. And what about surgery? Appendixes, gall stones, cardiac operations… it's my area of expertise, I'm a surgeon, you know." Snape caught Lisa stifling a yawn as her ex-husband was warming to the subject.

"As far as I know, the actual removal of gall stones or an infected appendix is done in much the same way as in Muggle medicine, except that the healers use their wands and spells instead of scalpels, and they can close and heal the wounds immediately."

"This sounds fascinating. I really would be interested in…" Lisa cleared her throat meaningfully, making her former husband stop in mid-sentence. He gave her a sour look and sat back in his chair, running a hand over his face.

"Right. I'm digressing. Well. Back to Nathan. What if, after finishing school, he decided that he didn't want to live as a wizard? Could he have a normal career?"

"Mr McGregor, nobody who is able to do magic would chose to live without it. It simply is so much more convenient."

Nathan's father looked from Snape to Nathan and then to Lisa and back to Snape and sighed.

"Look," he said, uncrossing and re-crossing his legs, "I'm still not sure about your relationship with my wife…"

"Ex-wife," Lisa prompted.

"Ex-wife and my son, Mr Snape…"

"He's our neighbour and friend," said Lisa, blushing slightly. She caught Severus' eye and saw an indeterminable flicker of emotion cross his face.

For a moment her husband regarded her with narrowed eyes. Then his glance wandered from one garden wall (most certainly he had noticed the large 'for sale' sign in the window of the house on this side? The young couple who had lived there worked for an international firm and had been promoted to new posts in Australia) to the other, where the upper part of the dirty brick wall and the moss-grown tiles of the roof of Snape's outdoor toilet could be seen.

"Friend? Neighbour? You mean you live in this derelict hovel over there? Don't they pay you decent salaries and pensions in these wizarding institutions?"

"Severus was very ill, Nick, he couldn't be bothered with the house," Lisa said quickly, carefully avoiding Snape's eyes.

Her husband exhaled noisily, shaking his head.

"Be that as it may, first of all I'd like some more detailed and official information about this school and everything connected with your magic before I give my consent."

Lisa pushed a manila envelope across the table. The same one she had received from the Ministry.

"Here you are."

"Someone from Hogwarts will come and visit you and explain everything to you," Severus added, "they always do that with the families of Muggle born students. They'll contact you soon."

Nathan's father weighed the envelope in his hand, frowning.

"I still don't know if I really believe you."

"Would you like some more demonstrations of magic, Nick? I'm sure Severus will oblige if you ask nicely."

Lisa grimaced ironically at her former husband, whose eyes wandered from Snape to Lisa with a bemused expression.

"Friend and neighbour," he muttered under his breath. Snape's face remained expressionless; Lisa stared back angrily, daring him to say more.

Shaking his head, Mr McGregor sighed again, tucking the envelope under his arm.

"Very well then, I'll have a look."

He turned to his son.

"Nat, if you decide against this hocus pocus and want to have a proper education, phone me. It's not too late yet. With my contacts I can easily get a place for you at my old school. You can become a good surgeon without magic."

He ruffled his son's hair playfully.

"Good-bye, then."

With a last look around the table he got up and made for the door, Lisa following him.

"I want to go to Hogwarts," Nathan said.

Snape smiled at him.

"Then you shall go there, Nathan."

After a while Lisa returned and sat down with a sigh.

"Dear me, I'm so glad this is over. Thank you, Severus, for coming over and helping us. I don't know how I would have been able to cope without you. His arrogance always makes me lose my temper and lash out at him. The whole thing would have ended in an argument, as usual. Did you notice the way he looked at us?"

"He was trying to decide if I am a good friend and neighbour, I think," he replied dryly.

Something about the tone of his voice made her look at him curiously.

"Er… yes, right," she said, not quite sure if there was a hidden meaning behind his words. His face, however, didn't reveal anything, and she sought refuge in a simple 'How are you?'.

"Feeling somewhat wobbly and dizzy," he said with a wry grimace, "but don't worry, I'll be alright. I'll go home now and get some rest."

She eyed him critically. He had arranged for Minerva McGonagall to apparate him home as soon as the healers had hinted that they might consider giving him the all clear – five days earlier than the expected four weeks – regardless of the fact that apparition – even if done as a passenger – was the most exhausting means of transport. It was also the quickest and that was what counted for him.

When she had returned from work that day she had noticed that the lights were on in his living-room and had gone over to investigate at once. She had almost cried out in shock when he had opened the door, looking pale like a ghost. She had given him the once over for his foolishness, which he accepted in stony silence, invited him to dinner, which he had declined, as always, so that she had sent Nathan over with his portion in the usual plastic container. From then on she had visited him every day to look after him, to make sure that he ate enough and rested enough. Although his condition had improved, the therapy had been so exhausting that he was still far from having his strength back.

Severus pushed himself from his chair. His movements were no longer stiff and awkward, he could walk almost without a limp and didn't suffer from constant pain any more. Sometimes he found it hard to believe that the treatment had been so successful.

"I haven't cooked dinner tonight. I promised Nat a pizza in front of the telly…"

"Mum has bought the latest James Bond DVD. The spy, you know. You can watch it with us, Severus, it's cool."

"Yes, why don't you join us?"

He shook his head.

"Thank you, but I'm really tired. And I've still got some of the pasta you made for me yesterday."

He brushed past her on his way to the garden gate and for a moment their bodies touched. She could feel him stiffen and wasn't quite successful in suppressing the shudder that overcame her. She felt her cheeks turning red. His fleeting, awkward smile met her sheepish one.

And then he was gone and Lisa stared at the wood of the door, feeling lost and angry with herself. She should have insisted more, she shouldn't have let him go like this. They had become quite close in the last few weeks, she enjoyed being with him. There had been moments when… Oh, for God's sake! What exactly were her feelings for this man? A friend and neighbour? Her ex-husband hadn't believed her, had suspected something else. She had told him not to be silly and jump to conclusions before closing the front door on him. So what was it? Had he been right? Should she start being honest with herself and admit… what?

"Mum, what about the pizza? Do you want the one with pepperoni same as last time?"

With a deep breath she pulled herself out of her musings.

"Yes, Nat, I really liked it. Let me see, where have I put the number?"

In the kitchen next door, Severus Snape was staring into the evening shadows of his backyard, his hands resting on the container with the pasta which was on the sink in front of him, forgotten, the lid still closed.

'Friend and neighbour'. But she had blushed, felt uncomfortable under her ex-husband's enquiring stare. The man hadn't believed her innocent words, had suspected something else. Was there something else? Could she ever see more in him than a mere 'friend and neighbour'? In the past weeks they had been very close, she had visited him regularly and he had enjoyed her company. She had spent much time looking after him since he had returned from hospital. As she would have done for any of her patients. Or would she?

"Merlin's balls, if you want to find out, why don't you stop running away every time she invites you to stay for dinner, you stupid coward!" he said aloud, the words somehow making him feel better. If none of them dared do the first step they wouldn't get anywhere. If only he knew how to do it.


	22. Chapter 22

_Phew, it took me a long time to get this chapter ready. I had to rewrite it several times before I considered it fit for public perusal. I'm still not quite happy with the way it turned out, but I decided to declare it finished and have it judged by you. So, here you are. _

_Oh, and, of course, the usual disclaimers apply.  
_

**Chapter twenty-two**

King's Cross Station, platform 9 ¾. The Hogwarts Express was gone, having left behind a faint memory of steam and smoke. After the noise and excitement along the train prior to its departure – students running, laughing and shouting, parents greeting each other and giving last minute advice to their offspring, pets hooting and miaowing excitedly, conductors shouting and gesticulating, steam hissing – the echoing silence that had fallen on the platform made people feel abandoned and uncomfortable and eager to get away. Parents and siblings, thoughtful and silent, all of them more or less convincingly dressed in Muggle-style clothes, were on their way to the barrier that would take them back to the Muggle part of King's Cross Station.

Among the last people walking up to the seemingly solid, soot-blackened brick wall was Lisa McGregor. She was talking to a middle-aged couple whose twin sons had also embarked on their first year in Hogwarts. Smiling and waving good-bye when they reached the barrier, Lisa's new acquaintances vanished from sight, and she turned to the tall, silent figure shrouded in a black cloak that had been hovering in the background, attracting many curious glances because the hood was drawn up despite the warm September day.

"Mum, Dad, look, a Deatheater!" A little girl pointed an excited finger at the black cloak, peering out from behind her mother's legs. Everybody froze, staring from the little girl, whose eyes were wide both with fear and fascination, to the mysterious, silent stranger. The girl's mother bent down quickly, shushing her daughter. Her husband, who had become very red in the face, turned towards the cloaked and hooded figure and smiled a nervous apology. "I'm so sorry, sir. She doesn't know what she's talking about. Just remembers bits and pieces of adult conversation she has overheard. Kids, you know…" He lifted his hands in a helpless gesture and attempted a laugh. "I'm really sorry."

The person in the cloak gave the tiniest of nods, before turning away and offering his arm to Lisa; they stepped forward together and vanished.

Back on the profane concourse of Muggle King's Cross Station, among the coffee-shops and newsagents, the hood and the long black cloak were even more conspicuous and Lisa was glad when they were outside in the street and had reached her car. They got inside, fastening seatbelts, but instead of starting the engine Lisa remained motionless, staring at the remains of dead insects on the windscreen, both hands resting on the steering wheel, the key dangling from her fingers. Severus lowered his hood and unfastened the clasp at his throat.

"Nathan will be fine. He has already found some friends," he said.

Lisa nodded absent-mindedly. On their way to the Hogwarts Express they had met the family with the twins, two boys with identical angelic heads of blonde curls, in front of the barrier. They had turned out to be first-year students, too, and Nathan had got along with them from the start. On the train they had settled in a compartment with two first year girls and all five of them had been so excited, exchanging what information they already had about Hogwarts and excited ideas about what was lying ahead of them, that they almost missed saying good-bye to their parents and siblings when the whistle was blown and the pistons came alive.

Lisa turned her head and answered with a weak smile.

"I suppose."

Taking in his pale, haggard face and tired eyes, she sighed. "I'm sorry about the girl's reaction. She only saw the cloak and …" she trailed off, shaking her head helplessly. "Perhaps I shouldn't have persuaded you to come with us, but I felt so much more secure with you being there."

He had been very reluctant to come, anticipating another unpleasant encounter with the wizarding public. For the shopping trip to Diagon Alley he had agreed to accompany them to London, showing them the way in from the Muggle street and introducing them to the Gringott's bankers, where Lisa changed pounds into Galleons while Snape was vanishing into the bowels of the buildings for some transactions of his own. But once they had left the bank he had kept his distance, retreating into the sanctuary of the bookshop while they were looking at the shops, buying school robes and books and Nathan's wand, rounding everything off with two large ice-creams before meeting him at the Leaky Cauldron for the way back home.

Fortunately, on that day his identity had stayed hidden under the hood, which, on a wet and blustery day had not attracted much attention, thus making it easier for Lisa to persuade him to come to King's Cross Station with them as well. Lisa's ex-husband, having grudgingly and after several long meetings with Professor McGonagall and an invitation to visit St. Mungo's, including a successful exchange of medical knowledge with some of the most prominent healers, started to come to terms with the fact that his son was indeed a wizard and hence a member of an entirely unfamiliar community, had flatly refused to see him off to school surrounded by a crowd of strangely attired wizards, in a dodgy place that went by the absolutely ridiculous name of platform 93/4 and could only be reached by 'silly hocus pocus'.

Severus gave a shrug, running a hand through his hair.

"After mentoring him for over a year and preparing him for this moment it was my duty to come with you and see him off."

"Your duty… well, yeah, but I talked you into it, didn't I? You didn't volunteer to come. I'm sorry…"

He snorted derisively.

"Don't be. The people on the platform were Melinda Woodcock and Cornelius, no, wait… Claudius Crickle, two of the most dim-witted students I've ever had the misfortune to teach. They must have passed on their lack of intelligence to their offspring."

Lisa commented his flippant explanation with a wry grimace.

"Perhaps you should stop hiding under that horrible black cloak and start presenting yourself to the world. People's excitement at spotting you will cool down with time and you'll be fine."

"It's not easy presenting myself to the world, Lisa," he replied softly, "but don't worry about today, I'm fine.

She shot him a quick glance. His eyes were on the windscreen, his profile was expressionless. Not knowing what to say she started the engine and steered the car into the slow traffic, crawling through London's suburban streets towards the motorway north. They didn't speak, Lisa concentrating on the traffic, Severus reading the map and the road signs; both of them were busy with their own thoughts.

Halfway to Manchester Lisa declared that she was in desperate need of caffeine and they stopped at a motorway service station that boasted a Starbucks. They bought two espressos and a muffin for Lisa and took everything to a table outside in the sun. Severus had discarded his cloak. He wore an ordinary Muggle suit underneath.

"Ah, that's better," said Lisa, her tongue relishing the bitter, velvety taste of the _crema_.

Severus answered with a quick smile of confirmation, stirring his own coffee, waiting for the sugar to dissolve.

"It is about the only item on their menu that deserves the name of coffee. These other concoctions they sell," he added with an incredulous shake of his head, "like… what was it? Peppermint White Chocolate Mocha – I wonder who buys these sickly abominations."

"Obviously quite a lot of people do. They like to try something new. It's meant to be a thrill for the taste buds."

"If you say so. I'd rather call it a vicious attack on the taste buds."

She laughed and he grinned wryly.

Then they were quiet again, taking small sips from their cups.

"I miss him already," Lisa said with a sigh.

"He'll be home for Christmas, won't he?"

"Christmas… that's four months."

"They will pass quickly."

She sighed once more, toying with her empty cup. Again they didn't speak for a while. Lisa was working her lower lip with her teeth.

Suddenly she raised her head as if having come to a decision. Her eyes widened in surprise when she found Snape's gaze resting on her. Black eyes caught brown ones.

"Lisa, I…"

"Severus…"

They laughed, embarrassed about having spoken at the same time, looking at each other, expectant, apprehensive. It was Lisa who took the plunge eventually.

"Promise me that you'll stay in contact, Severus."

He blinked.

"Sorry?"

"Can't you see what I mean? With Nathan being away at school, there won't be Sunday lessons any more, no obligation for you to come over to me. And since you are well again, you don't require my help any longer, so you'll most certainly say there's no need for me to come over to you. I'm afraid that you'll withdraw into your shell and become a hermit again. That we will live next to each other in our respective houses without having anything to do with each other. That you'll go back to your books and your potions and your beans on toast, always hiding beneath your cloak and leave me on my own… and… no, Severus, don't look at me like this, there's nothing funny about it, I really mean what I'm saying now… I won't have it."

"You won't have it," he repeated slowly.

"No, I won't. On no account. Oh, for heaven's sake, I need you."

"You need me?" She watched as surprise and disbelief mingled with the trace of amusement in his eyes which made her frown. She didn't know that he remembered one of his last lessons with Nathan on an exceptionally rainy Sunday afternoon.

_Lisa had left the room to answer the phone and he had been alone with the boy. As soon as his mother had been out of earshot Nathan put down the quill he had been practicing writing with and looked at Severus, his face unusually grave. _

"_You must look after mum when I'm away."_

_Snape had stared at the boy for several long speechless seconds._

"_Nathan, I'm sure your mother is perfectly able to look after herself."_

_The boy had shaken his head energetically._

"_She feels lonely sometimes, she needs a friend, someone her own age, someone she can trust."_

"_Nathan, I…"_

"_You live next door and she really likes you."_

"_Nathan, I don't think…"_

"_Yes, she does. I know it."_

"_Has she told you?"_

"_No, of course not, she wouldn't speak about something like that, would she? But I know anyway."_

"_Look, Nathan, as much as I appreciate your perception…"_

_Outside in the kitchen Lisa ended the call and the boy lowered his voice so that it was barely audible._

"_Promise that you'll look after her, Severus."_

_The boy' earnest grey eyes were fixed on his, making him feel uncomfortable. Merlin's straggly beard, did the boy have a gift for legilimency? And then, just as Lisa appeared in the doorway, he had heard himself say in a similar sotto voce way, "Very well, Nathan, I promise."_

"Yes, I need your friendship; I… really like you, Severus."

A muscle in his jaw twitched, he swallowed. Their eyes met over the table. His were unreadable, deep and dark and strangely intense, penetrating solid layers of skin and bone, tissue and nerves, reaching out for her thoughts. Unable to endure his gaze, she dropped her eyes, concentrating on the table top. His left hand was there, next to his empty cup. Long, slender fingers, square, buffed nails cut short. Slowly she moved her own hand, put it over his, squeezing it gently. After a moment's hesitation he brought up his second hand, putting it on top of hers. His palm was warm and dry. She looked up again, drawn by his gaze she still felt resting on her head… his eyes, hypnotic, black and glittering, holding her own, their hands, securely locked together, building up a link between them; and suddenly they were safely inside their private bubble of emotion, shut off from the outside world. A laughing and chattering group of coach passengers passed them on their way to the restaurant, cars went by, reversing into parking spaces, and lorries, there was the constant backdrop of noise from the passing traffic on the motorway, but Lisa and Severus didn't register anything, all their senses were focused on each other.

"Promise," she repeated, her mouth dry.

"I promise," he answered quietly, paused, and swallowed hard. " I… I like you, too."

They didn't speak much during the rest of the journey. When they reached their street, Lisa parked kerbside and switched off the engine. They got out of the car, Severus reaching into the back to retrieve his cloak. She waited for him to emerge again. When he did so, slamming his door shut, she locked the car and went over to him, putting her hand on his arm, hindering him from turning away. It was now or never.

"Would you… perhaps… I mean… would you like a cup of tea?"

He draped the cloak over his arm, running his fingers over the folds of black cloth, playing for time, avoiding her eyes.

"Severus?"

Finally he looked at her. There was something in his eyes she couldn't quite define. Determination? Apprehension? Hope?

"A cup of tea?" he took a deep breath. "Yes, I'd like one."

"Come," she said.


	23. Chapter 23

_Hi, everybody, in case you've been wondering – I'm still alive, and haven't abandoned the story. There was just a lot to do and no time for either proper story writing or answering reviews. Sorry, sorry, sorry. So thanks for all your fantastic feedback... and here's the next chapter._

_The usual disclaimers apply. _

**Chapter 23**

Severus Snape woke at dawn, dim early morning light filtering in through the curtains. Unfamiliar, bluish light casting strange shadows in an unfamiliar room… It took him only a second to adjust to the surroundings and remember the circumstances which had brought him there. Very carefully he turned and raised himself on his elbow. A tousled head of honey-coloured hair on the pillow, a naked shoulder – he smiled, recalling pleasant memories.

They had never got round to that cup of tea the night before. After closing the front door they had been standing in the tiny hall, Lisa taking his cloak, draping it over one of the hooks on the clothes rack. Then she had hung up her own jacket and kicked off her shoes, losing her balance in the process, stumbling, brushing against him, steadying herself on his arm. Her hand on his arm, her eyes meeting his. He had felt the warmth radiating from her body, had smelt the lemony scent of her perfume…

In retrospective it seemed to him as if they had spent hours in this position in the cramped hall, as if everything had happened in slow motion before finally, after a last moment's hesitation, he had taken the plunge, had dared give in to his feelings at last, had surrendered to the reign of his heart and done what he had, in rare moments of recklessness, dared doing in his fantasies: He had slipped his free arm around Lisa's waist, drawing her into his embrace, holding her close, tightly but gently, as if she was something extremely precious and fragile. Burying his face in her hair, hiding his cheeks which were aglow with self-consciousness he listened to his heart hammering against his ribs, desperately trying to control his breathing, anxiously waiting for a reaction, half expecting her to stiffen angrily and push him away.

But she didn't, she wrapped her arms around him instead, drawing him even closer, her head snuggling comfortably against his chest. His heart calmed down, seemed to grow, seemed to fill his entire chest, overflowing with love and silently exuberant joy. He shifted his position slightly, allowed his mouth to travel down, caressing her ears, her temples, her cheekbones, finally tempting her lips. Finding them soft, eager and responsive, receiving his in what started as a timid, tentative kiss, but soon became deeper and more and more passionate and full of longing. It was as if a dam had broken, floods of love and passion engulfing them.

Somewhere along the line they had proceeded to her bedroom, Lisa taking his hand and leading the way. Then clothes were shed and pulled away– naked, expectant skin, waiting to be touched, caressed, explored. He had been nervous, shaking with anxiety. After so long a time would he know what to do? Apart from the Deatheater revels he had not been able to avoid he had been living the celibate life of a monk; she, on the other hand, had been married, maybe she had had other relationships before or after her husband, she was an experienced woman. Would he be able to compete with the performance of McGregor's well-toned and tanned body, did he stand a chance? But Lisa had taken him by the hand, had coaxed him on with her tenderness, encouraged him with her caresses – and then nature simply took over and overwhelmed both of them.

He shuddered, closing his eyes, recalling the immense awe and wonder he had felt at the experience of seeing a woman leaning into his touch, moaning with genuine pleasure, begging him to go on. Something he wouldn't have thought possible only six months before. And when he had finally collapsed next to her, exhausted, drained, fulfilled, satisfied, heavy limbs entangled with hers, he had felt so much younger, so much more alive, all the years of loneliness and misery seemed to have fallen away from him…

Gently he drew up the duvet, covering Lisa's shoulder, protecting it from the early morning chill. The tousled head took a deep breath and muttered something without waking. Very carefully Snape lowered himself, sliding under the duvet behind her.

How would they go on from here? What would they tell Nathan? Had the boy sensed that there was more than mere friendship between them? Was that what the little bugger had in mind when he told Severus to look after his mother? Would they uphold the façade of being friends and neighbours for decency's sake? Or had it been a one-off after all? Maybe Lisa wasn't keen on repeating the events of the night before.

He held his breath as he felt her move. Her body meeting his under the duvet. With a small sigh of delight she turned over and snuggled closer to him.

"Hiya, Severus," she muttered sleepily. "Hold me. I want to feel you to make sure that you are real, that I haven't dreamed everything I remember about last night."

For a short moment he stiffened, held his breath, too baffled by her request to react. Then he exhaled softly and his arm went around her waist, drawing her close; the warm presence of her body filling him with a pleasant feeling of security.

"Mmmm, that's nice," she said, almost purring with pleasure, "now go on, kiss me, please."

He complied. The reaction of his body was instant. Lisa was wide awake now, kissing him back enthusiastically, her hands caressing his naked skin under the duvet. With a deep moan he let himself fall into the sea of love again …

When he woke again, it was full daylight outside and he was alone in the bed. He could hear the shower running from downstairs. Rolling onto his back he stretched luxuriously. The noise of the running water stopped. Severus sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His clothes were scattered all over the room. When he leant forward to collect them he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror next to the wardrobe. He paused, stepping closer, regarding his image with narrowed eyes. No, he had not become any more handsome during the night. Impatiently he raked his hair back with both hands. Lank, greasy – it had been like this since his teenage years. His face – as pale, angular and lined as before, dominated by his nose, the 'vile protuberance' – what an apt description by the French Muggle writer. His body… well, one had to admit it wasn't bad, still as lean as it had been twenty years ago. The love handles of middle age other men had to wage a hopeless war against had not threatened to show up so far. Maybe because he had never been loved before… He snorted. Well, whatever. He assumed the shape of his body could be put on the plus side. But as for the rest… Skin pasty white, legs, arms and chest covered with sparse black hair. The massive scarring on his neck, smaller scars on his chest and arms and even more on his back. And yet her hands had not recoiled from touching him, her fingers had toyed with the imperfections of his skin, her lips had caressed them, making his nerves tingle with pleasure. Pleasure… there had been pleasure in her eyes when she had looked at him, whispering that she loved him; she had moaned with pleasure, her body, her soft, unblemished skin pressed against his... What made her react like this was beyond him. What, in the name of Merlin and all the other venerable luminaries of magic, did she see in him? With a shake of his head and a sigh he turned away from the mirror, collected his clothes and put them on.

When he came downstairs, she was in the kitchen, wrapped in a blue toweling bathrobe, her hair wet. She was putting plates and cutlery on the small table in the corner. On the radio some excited reporter talked about a major accident on the M25. Obviously a lorry full of sheep had been involved, dozens of panicking animals running free, causing a traffic jam. She looked up briefly, smiling.

"Good morning."

"Good morning." He remained in the doorway, awkward, undecided.

Lisa stopped, a jam jar in her hand and looked at him.

"I've just realized that I have no idea what you have for breakfast, Severus. Tea or coffee? Toast, cornflakes, eggs?"

He looked at her, his expression not reflecting her smiling eyes.

"I think I should go home."

Her smile faded.

"Go home? Why?"

"Because I, well…I… I need to change."

"But you can take a shower here and…"

She grinned as an idea struck her.

"Can't you just order some clothes here with magic?"

"Yes, I could if my house wasn't warded."

She grimaced. His wards, of course.

"And don't forget the Statute of Secrecy; what would the neighbours say if they saw a shirt and some underpants fly over the garden wall?" he added dryly.

A flicker of a smile in response before Lisa's face became serious again.

"I don't want you to go now, Severus. I don't want to be left alone with only the memories of last night. I want you here in the flesh."

He shifted his position, looking uncomfortable.

"Lisa, about last night…"

"Yes?" A syllable full of apprehension.

"I don't… you… I don't want you to think that it leaves you with any obligations… I mean… just because we… we were both somewhat confused and stressed out and…it was just one night…"

Very carefully Lisa placed the mug she had been holding on the counter before turning to face him.

"Severus, am I right in assuming that you are trying to tell me that last night was a terrible mistake and we should forget all about it?"

A long moment passed with them staring at each other. The radio was playing in the background: "You are beautiful, no matter what they say…" Then he nodded curtly. Lisa let out an angry, noisy breath.

"Don't be ridiculous, Severus Snape. If you want to know, I think last night was the best thing that happened to me in my life. It was wonderful and I want to repeat it over and over again. Oh, for heaven's sake, don't you understand that I love you, you silly man?"

He shrugged, his eyes on the floor. She went up to him, standing very close, her hands on his chest.

"I love you," she repeated.

Very slowly he raised his head. Once again his black eyes bore into her with this peculiar intensity of his. But there was also something else buried in their inky depths. Pain? Anger? Shame? Whatever it was, it wasn't a pleasant feeling. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse.

"I'm sorry. My experience with love and with being loved is limited, but… but I think…"

Did he love her? He had loved Lily, loved her with all the desperation of a teenage boy, and he still remembered the pain this love had caused him, alternating between the few moments of happiness, exhilaration even and the fear of not being adequate, the jealousy if she laughed and joked with other boys, the misery when she had left him after the mudblood-incident, the humiliating agony when he had learned that she was going out with Potter. He had loved her, deeply, passionately, desperately. Had she loved him? Really loved him? He didn't know. With Lisa it was different. It wasn't painful. It was warm and stable, comfortable and secure and beautiful and… It felt as if it could last a lifetime. And all of a sudden he knew that he wanted it to last a lifetime, that he wanted to be with her, to share his life with her… he cleared his throat, hoping to make his voice sound calm and convincing.

"I love you, too."

With a little sigh she wrapped her arms around him, her damp hair cold against his chest. He held her close, enjoying the moment with all his heart. Then very gently he took her arms and pushed her away.

"What is it now?" she asked, an anxious frown on her upturned face.

"Nathan – what will he say? What do we tell him?"

"Nathan?... Oh… oh, right, Nat."

She turned and walked over to the counter, picking up her mug and taking a thoughtful sip.

"I'm wondering if he knew that there was something between us. You know, before we went to London, he actually ordered me to take care of you, not to let you withdraw into your solitude again. Not that I needed his advice, but he took it so very seriously… it was really touching..."

She stopped, staring at Severus in surprise. He was laughing, his entire body was shaking with laughter, he was holding on to the doorpost for support. Lisa looked on, speechless, waiting for the fit to die down.

Finally Severus took a deep breath, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"This son of yours… he's unbelievable… I'm almost certain that he will be an accomplished legilimens some day."

"A what?"

"A legilimens, a wizard who can look into people's minds."

"I see."

She regarded him thoughtfully, making him feel uncomfortable. Had she noticed that he was doing it from time to time? He just couldn't help it, it had become something of a habit. But he never really intruded into people's minds nowadays, he always stayed on the surface. Anyway…

"But let's forget about his magical talents for the moment… He is a scheming little bugger, Nathan is. He told me to look after you, he made me promise not to leave you alone…"

"So last night wouldn't have happened without Nathan's advice?" she interrupted him very softly, her eyes on her mug.

"What?" He stared at her. "No, of course not…" Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the mug harder. "No,… yes. Damn it! Don't be stupid, you know what I mean, Lisa. For Merlin's sake, woman! I love you and I swear that last night would have happened without your son's interference. I'm glad that it happened."

"Really?"

He took a deep breath, nodding curtly.

"Yes, really."

Lisa lifted her head and smiled at him.

"So, what are you having for breakfast, Severus?"


	24. Chapter 24

_The usual disclaimers apply._

**Chapter 24**

"Butter tablet", snapped Professor Liane Anguin impatiently, and the ugly, grinning Gargoyle moved aside, the wall slid open, giving access to the spiral staircase.

"Follow me, Mr McGregor," she said to the young boy waiting next to her, who was watching the proceedings with a mixture of awe and apprehension. She stood on the bottom step and, when the boy had joined her, the staircase started moving, making him gasp with shock and grab the brass rail for balance, as the whole structure kept revolving slowly, transporting them upstairs until they faced the front of a highly polished, solid oak door with a gilt knocker shaped like a griffin.

Professor Anguin stepped off the staircase, lifted the knocker and rapped it against the wood three times. The door sprang open.

"Enter," came a voice from within.

Professor Anguin ushered Nathan in.

"Good evening, headmistress. You wanted a word with Nathan McGregor?"

The head of Slytherin House didn't sound very happy with the headmistress's request. Having taken on the post with the triple disadvantage of being - according to wizarding standards – very young, half French and female – her predecessor, Professor Slughorn, had expressed himself very clearly on the latter and she still clenched her teeth whenever she remembered his patronizing behaviour on the day she had first come to Hogwarts to take over from him as a teacher – she tended to bristle at even the slightest hint that someone was questioning her being up to the task. And Professor McGonagall's wish to deal with Nathan McGregor's repeated misbehaviour herself was such a hint.

The headmistress looked up, nodded and slowly returned her quill to its holder.

"Yes, indeed. Thank you, Professor Anguin, for coming so quickly. Please, take a seat; you, too, Mr McGregor." She motioned at the two chairs in front of her desk. The head of Slytherin sat down in the one on the far side, leaving Nathan sitting directly opposite Professor McGonagall's piercing stare. He pushed his hands under his thighs to keep them from trembling, fixing his eyes on the three small inkbottles – black, red and green – before him. There was an endless moment of silence, with neither of the teachers speaking. Professor McGonagall was regarding the boy thoughtfully: He had just come back from the hospital wing and there was still a faint greenish-yellow tinge around his left eye. Professor Anguin was looking the other way pointedly, studying the slumbering portraits of the former headmasters, arms crossed in front of her chest, making no effort whatsoever to conceal the fact that she considered this conversation a waste of time.

Finally Professor McGonagall broke the silence, removing her glasses and massaging the bridge of her nose before putting them on again.

"Mr McGregor, I think you can guess why I want to speak to you?"

The boy looked up, his bright eyes threatening tears.

"Because of the fight, Professor McGonagall," he said, his voice barely audible.

"Because of the _fights_, Nathan. Today was the fifth time you got into trouble, wasn't it?"

Nathan nodded miserably. Professor Anguin sighed, shaking her head impatiently.

"You've been in the hospital wings five times and in detention for more than four weeks all in all since you arrived at Hogwarts. This should have taught you to control your temper."

"Indeed it should," confirmed Professor Anguin. "Not to mention the countless talks I had with him about the matter."

"So… Mr McGregor, tell me, what is it that prevents you from seeing reason?"

Nathan's lower lip quivered and he bit on it hard to gain control. If he was to be expelled he was at least going to bear it bravely and not break down like a cry baby.

"I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall, but… I don't know…it's always the same. And I can't let the others say these things about him, I simply can't. They are lies, he wasn't a coward or a traitor …"

"He is talking about Severus Snape," Professor Anguin elaborated.

The headmistress nodded. Professor Anguin gave her student a quick look and exhaled with exasperation before turning to the older witch again.

"The problem is that people are still very much, how shall I put it? well, fascinated with Severus Snape – some see him as a hero, some as a villain – and students talk about him time and again and discuss what he was like and what he did. Given the character of his actions what they say is not always favourable, and Mr McGregor has made it his business to defend the man whenever one of the other students refuses to sing his praise."

"But… Professor Anguin, Professor McGonagall, they really tell these terrible lies and insult him. They call him a murderer and say that he was a slimy traitor and they don't even know him. But I do, he lives next door to us, he taught me everything about Hogwarts and magic, my Mum loves him…"

Nathan stopped, very red in the face.

Professor McGonagall and Professor Anguin exchanged a startled look and the older witch spun around angrily when the portrait on the wall behind her – a wizard with long white hair and a long white beard whom Nathan recognized as Albus Dumbledore – opened an eye and chuckled contentedly. The portrait winked at her, raised his hand in apology and went to sleep again, adding his snores to the soft cacophonic backdrop of the other portraits' uvular noises.

Professor Anguin's lips tightened in disapproval, while Professor McGonagall turned to Nathan again.

"Mr McGregor, as you seem to be so well-informed about the recent history of magical Britain you certainly know that Severus Snape played a very complex role in the events. Thus, despite the information that became known after V…Voldemort's downfall he is still not fully accepted by a large percentage of the wizarding community. Especially some families whose members have been educated in Slytherin House for generations still have problems accepting what he did. These students you complained about just repeat what they've heard at home from their siblings or parents …"

"But it's not true, Professor McGonagall!"

"No, it isn't, but…"

"And it's not only the Slytherins, Professor McGonagall, last week I heard two girls from Gryffindor say that even if people call him a hero today he was still a murderer and probably killed countless people… They talk about him as if he were a criminal and a monster!"

Professor McGonagall sighed, Professor Anguin examined her fingernails, her lips tightening with embarrassed disapproval.

"It isn't true."

"No, Mr McGregor, of course it isn't," the headmistress said wearily.

"And someone has to tell them!"

"And this someone is you, Mr McGregor?"

"I'm the only one who does. I'm the only one who cares about the truth and who really knows Severus."

Professor McGonagall sighed and rubbed her eyes, pushing her spectacles up her forehead.

"Do you think Severus Snape would like you to get into trouble because of him?"

Nathan stared at her, then lowered his eyes again, shaking his head slowly.

"Mr McGregor,…" Professor McGonagal's voice was very soft and sympathetic now, "we all appreciate your commitment and your wish to protect your friend's reputation, but getting into fights is not the right way. It only causes turmoil among the students and gets you into trouble; it won't make the other students see the error of their opinions."

"But what else can I do? I can't just listen to them calling him names and not say anything, can I? I don't start the fights, I just tell them that they are wrong and then the others… they run out of arguments and…"

"They hit you," Professor McGonagal finished his sentence with a meaningful glance at the discoloured skin around his eye.

She sighed.

"I really must advise you to restrain yourself a bit more, Mr McGregor… Nathan. Teaching students about the Voldemort years is the teachers' task. We're doing projects on current history in History of Magic for all third and fourth year students so that they will get an unbiased point of view about recent events, but no matter how hard we try and what we teach them, Severus Snape will remain a controversial figure all the same. There are still many witches and wizards who simply don't want to understand what he did for all of us, who don't want to be bothered to revise their opinion of him."

"But…"

"I also asked Professor Anguin at the beginning of the year to talk to all the students of her House about the role of Slytherin in the V…Voldemort affair. I trust she has done so…"

An enquiring glance at both teacher and student was answered with a curt nod by the former and a hesitant, reluctant one by the latter.

"So I hope that with all the effort we make people's opinions will change eventually."

"Yes, but…"

"No 'buts', Mr McGregor. You can't expect the deeply-rooted prejudice of the British wizarding community to change overnight and, moreover, you can't expect to achieve that change single-handedly at Hogwarts. It won't do Severus Snape's reputation any good if you keep up a hopeless fight against windmills. Don't attach too much importance to every unfavourable remark you happen to hear about him. Has it never occurred to you that these boys may want to provoke you, that it is their idea of having fun? Try to ignore them. If they tell open lies, the teachers will notice and deal with them."

Nathan stared at her, another 'but' ready on his tongue.

"Mr McGregor, I want you to promise that you will control your temper from now on," Professor McGonagall continued sternly. "Otherwise I will have to inform your mother."

Nathan swallowed and nodded miserably.

"Promise me not to get into trouble again, Mr McGregor."

Again Nathan nodded.

"I want to hear you say it," the headmistress demanded, leaning forward across her desk.

"I promise," Nathan said in a small voice.

"Good, Mr McGregor, try to keep your promise. You may go now. Thank you very much for your time, Professor Anguin."

Both teacher and student rose from their chairs and made to leave the room.

As soon as the door had closed behind them, Professor McGonagall leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes tiredly.

The portrait behind her cleared his throat with a meaningful little cough.

"A remarkable boy, isn't he, Minerva?"

The headmistress adjusted her glasses, sighed, and turned round, facing the portrait of Albus Dumbledore.

"Yes, he is. And one of the best students of his year. I really hope he will act more reasonably from now on and keep away from trouble."

"Oh, I'm sure he will. I think your remark about Severus not wanting him to get into trouble will do the trick."

The witch nodded slowly. The painted wizard stroked his beard in a bemused way.

"This bit about his mother… do you think it's true?"

Professor McGonagall snorted.

"I knew you would comment on that. I have no idea, Albus. When he was here two years ago…"

"Pity I didn't meet him then."

"Well, as far as I remember you were bored and went upstairs to play chess with Livius Littlewood that night. Anyway, it was after his first encounter with the McGregors and he didn't show much interest in Nathan's mother. But who knows… "

Blue painted eyes twinkled above the reading glasses.

"Yes, who knows… A bit of romance and love for our dour, reclusive, unwilling war hero…"

"A bit of romance and love for a man who has never known any, who has been lonely all his life and deserves a bit of happiness," she replied belligerently.

"Oh, yes, Minerva, by all means. I knew you always had a weak spot for Severus…"

"Don't be ridiculous, Albus. We were colleagues, I respected him for his talent, knowledge and dedication, while you… you just used him… like you used all of us… we were just pawns in your plans for the so-called greater good…" she stopped, breathing heavily.

Some of the other portraits were awake now, too, and murmured their approval

"Minerva," the portrait said sadly, "I am fully aware of the mistakes I made, and I regret them without you dragging them up on a daily basis. But you mustn't forget that we were successful in the end. Let's not talk about the past, let's talk about the present and the future. I really would like to meet Nathan's mother. Do you think it could be arranged?"

"Leave them alone, Albus," the witch said sternly. "Don't you dare meddling, leave them be."

The painted wizard made an indignant harrumphing sound and busied himself with the richly embroidered cuffs of his sleeves. Professor McGonagall regarded him quietly for a moment, then turned, ready to sit down and resume her monthly struggle with the school's finances, when a tapping sound at the window interrupted her again.

"Oh, for goodness' sake," she exclaimed and went to open the window.

The large brown owl delivered its missive and left. The witch closed the window, returned to her desk to fetch a penknife for the official looking envelope.

"What is it? Another educational degree from the Ministry?" came Phineas Nigellus's reedy voice from the corner.

"Bad news? Has the Board of Governors come up with another stupid idea?" asked Laetitia Lovegood, Hogwarts Headmistress from 1746 to 1788, sympathetically when the current occupant of the post looked up from the parchment, staring at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore with suspiciously narrowed eyes.

"Whatever it is, I have nothing to do with it," replied Dumbledore indignantly, pushing his reading glasses up his long, crooked nose. "I can't do anything – I'm just a painting."

Headmistress Lovegood and headmaster Black snorted in unison.

"No, I don't think it is your doing, Albus, but… well…" she folded the letter again and smiled at him, "there may be a tiny chance that your wish to meet Lisa McGregor will come true."


	25. Chapter 25

_Hello everybody. This chapter is an experiment. I had a new idea and wanted to try it out. I hope you'll like it. And thanks for all the reviews. I think I answered most of them, but then I inadvertently deleted half of my inbox, so… _

_The usual disclaimers apply._

**Chapter 25 **

Spinner's End, 8th January, 2007

Dear Nat,

Where were you with your thoughts when you were packing for school? I know you made a list of all the items you wanted to put into your trunk, I found it in your bedroom, but wouldn't it have made sense to tick the ones you had already packed? As it is you left all your jumpers behind, most of your quills and your potions textbook. Severus brought it over today, you forgot it in his kitchen when you visited him on the day I was called in to work because of the terrible accident on the motorway. I was a bit reluctant to send so bulky a parcel by owl, I mean, the poor bird, I still can't imagine how they manage to carry such heavy burdens, but Severus said I shouldn't worry, they were doing it all the time. So here you are. I hope you'll get the book before your first potions lesson, otherwise, if you get into trouble it should teach you not to forget your things next time.

Severus sends his regards and wants me to remind you not to act in such a foolish, Gryffindor way – whatever that means; he refused to elaborate, just said it was something you two Slytherins had discussed and that there were things mothers needn't know about. Well, I disagree, but, alas, I guess that won't make you two change your mind.

So, anyway, have a good start and write soon.

Love

Mum

Hogwarts, 12 January 2007

Hi Mum,

Thanks for the parcel, I was really cold here without the jumpers (there are warming charms but we haven't learned them yet) and I got the book in time for my first potions lesson today. We made the Cooling Draught for minor burns and sunburn, the one Severus let me assist him with in the holidays. So naturally my potion was perfect and I got top marks for it and ten points for my house. I also managed to levitate my desk in Charms today. Professor Flitwick said it was very advanced work for a first year and awarded me another fifteen points for Slytherin. Twenty-five points in one day! Cool, isn't it? Slytherin is well ahead of the other houses now. Everybody says we have a good chance of coming first this year. And I'm so proud if it will be a little bit because of me.

It could have been a perfect day, but then we had flying lessons in the afternoon and that was awful. It was freezing outside in the grounds; although I was wearing gloves my fingers got so cold and numb I could hardly hold the broomstick. I'm still not comfortable on the broom and somehow I can't make the stupid thing go where I want it to. I really hate this. I feel so clumsy and stupid. You should see the others fly, it looks so easy! Some are really good. Duncan Wright wants to try for seeker in our Quidditch team next year, he's such a great flyer and very popular. If only I could fly like him!

Love

Nat

Spinner's End, 29th January, 2007

Dear Nat,

Congratulations on your good school work. I'm really, really proud of my son. And don't worry about the flying lessons. You can blame it on your genes, I'm afraid, I have never been good at sports. And anyway, you can't be top of your class at everything. I'm sure that winning house points makes you popular, too.

Your Dad phoned today and told me he wanted to take you to Italy during the Easter holidays. I said it was OK by me, but I didn't know if you would have time, perhaps you would be set some homework over the holidays and the best thing would be to ask you directly. When I told him he couldn't phone, but would have to write a letter and send it by owl post he became very quiet for a moment and I could almost hear him seethe and half expected him to explode and slam down the phone, but he only said 'I see' in a very strained kind of voice and changed the topic. I wonder if he'll write.

Love

Mum

Spinner's End, 1st February, 2007

Dear Nathan,

Your mother told me about your Cooling Solution and your success with the levitation charm. Well done. You seem to possess extraordinary magic if you are able to perform so strong a levitation charm right at the beginning of your magical education.

I'm sure you'll do the heartburn potion in one of your next lessons. If I am not mistaken the instructions are on page 43 in your textbook . I noticed you're still using the edition we had before the war. Read the list of ingredients carefully and write back to tell me your opinion about it.

About the other issue we discussed – I hope you have been able to practice some self-restrained so far. Don't let people taunt you. Don't feel obliged to defend my character or my honour or whatever. I can only repeat that I absolutely don't want you to get into trouble because of me! You told me the Sorting Hat had not been sure where to put you, in Slytherin or in Gryffindor, and obviously you have too many Gryffindor traits for your own good. Showing courage and chivalry and a sense of justice is all very well, but more often it is more advisable not to speak one's mind openly, but to resort to subtler methods. Always remember that.

Yours

Severus

Hogwarts, 3 February 2007

Dear Severus,

What about the 'ground nits'? This ingredient doesn't make sense, does it? Is it an error, should it be 'ground nuts'?

Nat

Spinner's End, 4th February, 2007

Dear Nathan,

Yes, well done, it should be 'ground nuts' indeed. I wonder how Professor Anguin will deal with the error. When I was teaching the subject I used to keep quiet about it and waited if students would notice the mistake. In most classes they didn't and in consequence produced a harmless, but extremely foul-smelling, sticky concoction. This thoughtlessness was usually rewarded with a long essay about the necessity of using one's brain when following instructions, which, together with having to get rid of the sticky mass in their cauldrons and spending the rest of the lesson breathing the foul air they had produced, worked wonders in teaching students to pay attention.

Yours

Severus

Hogwarts, 12 February 2007

Oh, Severus, honestly!

So that's one of the reasons why all the people say you were the most unpopular teacher at Hogwarts! Why didn't you ever think of writing to the publishers and tell them to correct the mistake? Professor Anguin wants to do so. She didn't follow your example in the lesson either. She discussed the list of ingredients with us and Lucy Abbott spotted the mistake, too. Both of us raised our hands, but Professor Anguin asked Lucy, so this time it was ten points for Hufflepuff. Actually, Lucy deserves it, she is very good at potions and Professor Anguin always goes on about how unusual that is for a Hufflepuff. I think this is stupid, I mean, who said that all Hufflepuffs have to be a bit slow and dim-witted? Lucy certainly isn't, she's good at all subjects, and she's good on a broomstick as well.

I'm trying to follow your advice and I think I've been doing quite well so far. Yesterday, when Drusilla Cooper said something about you always being on Voldemort's side to her friends before Transfiguration I pretended not to have heard. Later I left my copy of 'Hogwarts – A History' open on the common room table next to her favourite armchair where she was bound to find it. I had also marked the passage with red ink. Was that a subtle method?

Love

Nathan

Spinner's End, 20th February, 2007

Dear Nathan,

What you did with the book was a subtle method indeed. Keep up following your Slytherin side. Talking of which, I agree that it isn't appropriate to put too much emphasis on the traits of character attributed to the four houses of Hogwarts, it may discourage students from studying subjects which are not deemed typical of their house; however, the division into houses is one of the hallowed Hogwarts traditions and, although there was much talk about how fighting against the Dark Lord had helped abolishing house rivalries, they kept it up after the war. There is always a number of students who fit the mould and turn out to be typical Gryffindors or Ravenclaws etc., but there are many more, like you, whose characters and skills are so complex that it is hard to allocate them to a particular house. As to the rivalry between houses – it may be an incentive for students to study, but it may also hinder the development of a community spirit in the school as a whole and shouldn't be taken too seriously any longer.

Yours

Severus

Hogwarts, 10 March 2007

Hi Mum,

I've got a letter from dad today asking me about the holidays, so he must have overcome his shock about the owls. I wonder how he got hold of one. Did you tell him about the special counter in the Muggle post office where you can send ordinary Muggle letters by owl post? I don't know what I shall answer him, though. I would like to go to Italy, of course, but most of my friends are staying at Hogwarts over the holidays and I would like to stay here, too. I would have time to practice flying. Guess what? I'm getting better, and the weather is warmer now, too, so flying is more fun. I managed to ride my broomstick all around the lake today and I landed smoothly in exactly the right spot, without falling off. Great, isn't it? I think I'd like to have my own broomstick for Christmas. Do you think dad will be sad if I tell him I'd rather not go away for the holidays?

Love

Nat

Spinner's End, 15th March 2007

Dear Nat,

It's your decision and your dad will have to accept it. He can take you on that trip in the summer holidays, we'll only be visiting granddad for two weeks I think, so there will be plenty of time for you to go to Italy as well. I'm glad that you start enjoying riding on a broomstick. Severus told me that it is still considered to be the most important means of transportation in the wizarding world, so, apart from being able to play quidditch it is also useful in everyday life. He also admitted that he'd had difficulties riding a broom at first – and his mother is a witch. As to that broomstick for Christmas, well, we'll see. Severus told me they can be pretty expensive. Why don't you shock your dad again and tell him that you can ride well now and need your own broomstick?

So, stay at Hogwarts, practice, but don't take risks, please; it wouldn't be a good idea if you fell off and landed yourself in hospital. I'll send you your Easter egg.

Love

Mum

Hogwarts, 30 March 2007

Dear Severus,

Big news: Our herbology lessons are no longer in the greenhouse, but in a ground floor classroom off the entrance hall. Professor Sprout has to bring in large pots with the plants she wants to show us. It's good that she has an assistant now, Mr Longbottom, who can help her. The greenhouses are out of bounds for students now, they are surrounded by scaffolding and they have started doing some work on them. Professor Sprout said that they hadn't been thoroughly repaired after the war and that many of the glass panes still have cracks or are missing altogether, which is bad for the plants because there are draughts and it is impossible to keep the temperature right. She also mentioned that this was just the beginning of building work around the castle and that it was all for the big event next year. But she wouldn't say which event, although she seemed to be very excited about it. Do you know anything?

Love

Nat

Spinner's End, 4 April 2007

Dear Nat,

Happy Easter. I hope you'll like your egg and enjoy your free time with your friends. The weather forecast is good for the weekend, so Severus and I have decided to go on a trip to the Peak District, enjoy the countryside and fresh air and have a picknick or two. He rather likes going by car and even considers taking lessons and getting a driving license himself. I hope you're having nice weather, too, so that you can practice riding the broomstick. Your dad told me you had agreed on going to Italy with him right at the beginning of the summer holidays. That's fine, we'll go down to Portreath when you come back.

Severus sends his regards and wants me to tell you that he regrets to say that he doesn't know what Professor Sprout is referring to. Obviously, once again, there is no need for me to know what that means. Hmmm. Why do I feel excluded?

Love

Mum

Spinner's End, 10 April 2007

Dear Nat,

I'm back home. But not from the Peak District, no, we didn't go there at all, I'm back from St. Mungo's. Severus had a breakdown on Friday afternoon. Obviously he'd had health problems for weeks and didn't tell anyone, but tried to cure them with his potions. He collapsed in his kitchen when we were unloading the car after the weekly shopping trip. He had chest pains and difficulties breathing but kept telling me that he was fine and would only need some rest and a potion and wouldn't let me call an ambulance until I got really angry. Then he relented and after several failed attempts – he could barely hold his wand – he managed to call the wizarding ambulance. Almost immediately a man and a woman in lime green uniforms appeared out of thin air in his backyard, examined him and decided that his condition was serious and that they had to take him to hospital. We insisted that I'd come with them and we all used Severus's fireplace to floo to the hospital. Another one of those quick, but uncomfortable means of magical transportation. I almost choked on the ash. They took him to his old ward and then it was the usual bustle until they had him stabilised. The healer was very angry with him, he told me they had sent Severus several invitations for check-ups, but he never bothered to answer them and never turned up. Stupid, pigheaded man. (Severus, of course, not the healer.) Obviously there is still some residue of Dark Magic in his body, which has got the upper hand, and he has to undergo another round of treatment, which means another prolonged stay on the ward in virtual isolation. God, he looked so utterly hopeless and defeated. Fortunately they remembered me and agreed to letting me visit him, the arrangements have already been made (portkeys), and I think Severus would like to stay in touch with you and hear about Hogwarts, so don't stop writing letters even if he won't be able to answer them for a few weeks.

For the way back home they gave me one of those portkeys, an old trainer. I had to touch it and suddenly it started to glow in a bluish light and catapulted me directly onto our patio, where I knocked my head on the window sill. This really makes me look forward to these trips to St. Mungo's.

Love

Mum

St. Mungo's, 30th June, 2007

Dear Nathan,

Thank you very much for your letters. I wasn't physically able to answer them, even now you'll find my handwriting barely legible in places, although my condition has improved greatly and there is the chance that they will let me go soon. They are quite confident that this time the treatment has been successful in getting rid of all the Dark Magic and I hope they are right. They won't be sad to see the last of me. The sentiment is mutual, by the way.

Nathan, I very much appreciate your concern and that of your mother, your letters and her visits have helped me immensely during those long weeks of being locked in this room, confined to my bed. From what you mentioned in your letters Hogwarts seems to resemble a building site. It is hard to imagine that they left so much undone or in makeshift condition after the war. It sounds as if the castle were barely fit for human habitation. Knowing Professor McGonagall I find it impossible to believe that she should have been content running a school for eight years with the premises in such a dilapidated state. There must be some extraordinary reason for all the building and renovation activities. I take it that you still haven't been told what it is all about? Very mysterious indeed. There is definitely something going on. Even here, in my miserable isolation I couldn't help noticing some excitement among the staff and overhearing the occasional remark about an oncoming big event. But as far as concrete information is concerned you and I are in similar situations, they consider neither pupils nor patients worthy of receiving any.

Yours

Severus

Hi Severus,

Greetings from Rome. We've been here for two days. The city is great. I like the old Roman buildings and ruins. Dad is very much into art. We've already been to three museums and about 200 churches. The good thing about them: It's cool inside.

Nat

Hi Severus,

Have you ever tried surfing? It's great. I've had three surfing lessons this week and it's even better than riding a broomstick. The weather is not so good in Cornwall, but it doesn't matter, you have to wear a wetsuit anyway. Mum doesn't do any surfing, she prefers taking granddad's dog for long walks along the cliffs. We hope you'll be well soon so that we can take you home when we return to Manchester.

Nat and Lisa

Hogwarts, 2 September 2007

Hi Mum,

I know it! I know what all the building and painting is about! Professor McGonagall told us in her welcoming speech yesterday and she said that we could inform our families now, although the official invitations wouldn't be sent out before Christmas. Guess what? They're having a big celebration for the 10th anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. It will be an open day and all the parents will be invited. It's going to be in May and they're doing the OWLs and NEWTS after the Easter holidays so that everybody can enjoy the festivities. And the summer holidays will start a few days earlier. How cool is that? The Minister for Magic is going to be there and Harry Potter and all the other famous people. I'm sure Severus will be invited, too, he's kind of a war hero, isn't he? Then we can show you the classrooms and the common room and the dormitories and the grounds and you'll meet all the teachers and all my friends. Wicked! I can't wait to show you everything.

Love

Nat

Spinner's End, 15 September 2007

Dear Nat,

Severus got a letter from the Minister for Magic today. Obviously they're asking the celebrities to save the date before sending out the invitations, want to have enough of them present for the dinner and the ball. However, Severus is not very enthusiastic about the festivities, oh no, he thinks the whole thing is a waste of time and money and considers ignoring the invitation altogether. But then, that's just like him, isn't it? And he's still not quite well, the idea of him dancing is ludicrous, he can barely walk for ten minutes without having to rest. But I'm sure he'll come round eventually when his health improves. I'll do my best to encourage and convince him. I certainly am looking forward to seeing Hogwarts and being shown everything by my son and my friend.

However, Nat, don't forget that despite the celebrations there are lessons and homework to do this year. So don't forget to concentrate on that as well. Severus thinks so too, by the way.

Love

Mum

London, December 29th, 2007

Dear Mr Snape,

On behalf of the Minister for Magic of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland it is my pleasure and privilege to invite you and your partner to the Grand Celebration of the 10th Anniversary of the Victory of the Light. The function is being held on 2nd May 2008 at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Programme details are enclosed.

Please confirm your participation as soon as possible.

Yours sincerely,

Ambrosius Finnegan

Senior Undersecretary

Hogwarts, December 29th, 2007

Dear Mrs McGregor,

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry invites all parents and relatives to its Open Doors Day on 2nd May 2008. Come and see Hogwarts in all its splendor after months of renovation. Visit the grounds and the castle, watch inter-house quidditch matches and presentations of students' work. This function is part of the Grand Celebration of the 10th Anniversary of the Victory of the Light.

Programme details are enclosed.

Please confirm your participation as soon as possible.

Yours sincerely,

Pomona Sprout

Deputy Headmistress


	26. Chapter 26

_It's been a long time, I'm really sorry, but now - ta dah! -__the usual discliamers apply and I proudly present...__  
_

**Chapter 26**

It was a brilliant day. Flocks of dazzling white clouds were drifting across the deep blue sky, getting in the way of the sunlight now and then, casting patches of shadow on the freshly mown, velvety, emerald lawns and on the surrounding barren hills and mountains. A soft breeze was blowing, rippling the surface of the lake, turning the reflection of sky and clouds into swirls of impressionistic dots and dashes. There was a festive bustle of activity around the ancient walls of Hogwarts castle. Students were everywhere, preparing stalls, practicing spell movements and Quidditch moves; others were waiting, sitting in groups on the sunny steps in front of the huge oak doors, which were welcomingly open, relaxing, talking to each other, playing games, their expectant eyes wandering in the direction of the gates every now and then.

"My parents should be here any minute now," a small girl with a tiny nose full of freckles said, craning her neck to have a better view. "They were able to catch one of the first portkeys. How do your parents travel here?" she asked the two boys sitting next to her.

"My dad is apparating into Hogsmeade," the taller one said, "he doesn't like portkeys. My mum can't come, she's in America, business trip," he added importantly. "What about your parents, Nat?"

"My dad can't come, either. He's in America, too. At a surgeons' congress."

"Oh, right, I forgot. Your parents are Muggles, aren't they?"

The boy looked at Nathan with renewed interest.

"So what about your mum, how will she get here?"

"She'll drive. It isn't so far from Manchester."

"Drive? By car? Cool. I really would like to do that one day. My uncle is taking driving lessons, he says it's dead useful and becoming more and more popular among wizards."

Nathan grinned.

"Severus has got a license, too. But he hasn't bought a car yet. Maybe mum will let him drive hers."

"Severus? Who's Severus?… Hang on… this name… there's only one person I've ever heard of… are you talking about…" The boy took a deep breath, "Severus Snape?"

"Sure. He lives next door to us."

"And he's coming here today?"

"Sure."

"Cool," breathed Nathan's friend. Their eyes drifted back towards the path leading from the gates to the school entrance. More and more people were walking up to the castle. Some of them were wearing traditional robes, but quite a large number of visitors had opted for Muggle clothing. Not the crude, clueless mix of apparels wizards had donned in the past, but normal, casual Muggle weekend chic: Jeans and jackets, flowery summer dresses and cardigans.

"There are my parents!" the girl shouted and jumped up, running towards the nearest group of people. The two boys remained sitting, concentrating on the approaching visitors.

Most of them walked in small groups, people who had travelled with the same portkey, friends who had apparated together, people who had met acquaintances in Hogsmead. They were laughing and talking, greeting their children.

Nathan squinted against the sun, standing up to have a better view as the next group of visitors came in sight. It was a large group, divided into three smaller units: Several people in front, walking slowly, their heads turning from time to time, as if mysteriously drawn by the two people walking some steps behind, a tall man, and a woman awkwardly pulling a small trolley suitcase along the uneven path, and finally, a larger group of people, most of them in robes, who gave the impression of deliberately keeping their distance. There was much talking among the latter group and many meaningful glances at the two people in front, who seemed oblivious of the attention they were getting.

"They are here!" Nathan cried, pointing in their direction. His friend got up, too, following Nathan's outstretched finger with his eyes.

"This is Severus Snape?"

Nathan nodded.

"He looks like a Muggle." The boy sounded disappointed.

"He wears Muggle clothes all the time," Nathan explained. "He says they are more practical, and he doesn't want to stick out, of course. There are only Muggles living in our street."

And he ran off, waving and shouting. Out of breath he reached Lisa and Severus.

"Hi!" he panted.

"Hi, Nat!" his mother beamed, reaching out and hugging him.

"Mum, don't." He wound himself out of her embrace, very red in the face, and turned towards Severus.

"Hi, Severus."

"Good morning, Nathan."

They exchanged a solemn nod. The other visitors had slowed down and were watching them in curious silence.

"Professor Sprout told me to show you your rooms first," Nathan said, looking around self-consciously, eager to get away from the stares and whispers, "it's upstairs in the visitors' wing. That's new," he added, seeing Severus' questioning glance. "And mum, why didn't you let Severus shrink your suitcase? It would have been much…"

Lisa rolled her eyes.

"Now don't you start harping on about this, too. He did offer to shrink it, but I wouldn't have it. I don't want my things shrunk. I paid a fortune for the ball gown in there, I don't want it ruined by magic!"

"But mum, nothing will be ruined, it's perfectly safe."

"How can you be so sure?"

"We've done it in our lessons."

"In your lessons, I see. That's all very well, but there's still a difference between the classroom and real life, you know."

"Severus knows about real life, doesn't he?"

"It's no use, Nathan," the wizard interrupted him with a smile of amused resignation, "your mother still doesn't really trust magic and can't be persuaded. She prefers dragging her suitcase along. Come on, let's go."

Nathan shot his mother an uncomprehending look and the three of them set off towards the castle entrance, leaving behind the curious stares, the disbelieving shaking of heads and the industrious wagging of tongues.

"So this used to be your realm," Lisa stated, looking around at the vaulted ceiling, the cupboards full of ingredients, the solid wooden workbenches and the steam rising from the bubbling cauldrons filled with potions of different colours and consistencies. Students were watching the cauldrons, adding ingredients, stirring from time to time, ready to explain their work to attentive visitors. A tall, dark haired witch in dark green robes was supervising them.

"Professor Anguin," whispered Nathan.

The teacher had noticed their arrival, with a movement of her wand she lowered the flames beneath the cauldron she had been watching and came over.

"Hello! You must be Mrs McGregor! Nice to meet you. And…"

Her eyes widened when she recognised Lisa's companion; she cleared her throat, her smile wavering between pleasure, curiosity and nervousness.

"Mr…eh…Professor Snape, what a surprise! It is an honour having you here today."

"You needn't bother with the professor. I haven't been teaching for ten years and I don't intend to do it ever again," Severus drawled.

"Right. Yes, of course, well, but perhaps you still are interested in what we are doing today. Have a good look around. You'll find everything quite familiar. We haven't changed much since your time."

"No, you haven't, that much is obvious, there are still the same cupboards, the same books, and – if I'm not mistaken – the same boxes and bottles in the same places. I hope you have at least been buying fresh supplies of ingredients, Professor Anguin."

"Fresh supplies? Why, yes, of course we have, Mr Snape, what do you take me for? Oh, sorry, I see… you were just joking. Yes. Right. Well, as a matter of fact, I found everything in this classroom very well organized."

"As far as I know you need to give my successor, Professor Slughorn, credit for that."

"Oh, he mentioned that he had left everything as he found it when he took over from you."

"Did he, now? Maybe he was just too lazy to make any changes."

Lisa wanted to punch Severus in the ribs or step on his toe, anything to make him shut up. He was in full sarcastic bastard mode and seemingly enjoying himself. Nathan was watching the discourse with wide-eyed attention. Professor Anguin was smiling desperately, Lisa felt sorry for her. There was no mercy if you got on the wrong side of Severus' acerbic tongue. The students had stopped working, they were putting their heads together, whispering, casting curious glances in Severus' direction. So did the only other visitors in the room, an elderly couple (grandparents?) who shared meaningful glances, shaking their heads disapprovingly.

"Would you like to walk around and have a look at what we are doing?"

Professor Anguin was doing her best to put a brave face on Snape's rudeness. Most likely she was familiar with the reputation of the former teacher and was determined not to let him intimidate her.

"And scare the living daylights out of your students? No, fortunately there's no need for me to do that any longer. I can see from here that none of the cauldrons is about to melt or explode. You are preparing several basic potions, the students seem to be familiar with the rules of brewing and the results are going to be… " he sniffed, "well, acceptable. That's enough for me, thank you, I don't feel any inclination to have a closer look."

He took a few steps back and drew a chair into a dark corner next to the door.

"You go on, Nathan, show your mother the potions. I'll stay here."

Lisa sighed inwardly, but said nothing. She had no idea what had made him fall into this mood all of a sudden. So far the day had gone well. Severus had done his best to remain inconspicuous, just another visitor. He had kept himself in the background, had let Nathan give them the tour, asking the boy questions or adding his own reminiscences occasionally. Nevertheless his face was still well-known in the wizarding world and he had attracted some attention, whispers and stares, some just curious, some more or less hostile; but apart from his former colleagues, few people had actually greeted him and talked to him. Most of the wizards who had been directly involved in the events of the Voldemort years didn't have children at Hogwarts at present and were not expected until later in the day for the great dinner and the ball. Severus, and Lisa and Nathan for that matter, had done their best to ignore the stares, so as not to let them spoil the day.

Professor Anguin hesitated, looking from Lisa to Severus and back again, her fingers playing nervously with the buttons of her robes. Sending a reproachful frown in her friend's direction Lisa gave Nathan a gentle prod in the back.

"Come on, then, Nat, I want to learn everything about potion making."

The next thirty minutes were spent walking around the classroom, from cauldron to cauldron, with Nathan describing the softly simmering and bubbling contents enthusiastically and his teacher praising the boy's talents in the subject. Every now and then Lisa's eyes wandered towards the dark corner where she knew Severus was lurking. Professor Anguin followed her example, it was obvious that his presence was making her nervous, she was talking too fast, her smile was too bright.

"Is… he a relation of yours?" she asked with a little, meaningful tilting of her head in Snape's direction after they had inspected the last cauldron.

Lisa stared at her. "A relation?"

"Yes, I thought, well, with your son's talents for potion making…"

Lisa laughed.

"No, Severus lives next door to us. He's a friend. But he has taught Nathan a lot about magic. Nat's father and I, we are totally ignorant, we are both Muggles."

"I see. I just thought… well, Nathan is a very talented student, he shows exceptional skills at potions…"

"As I said, Severus has shown him a lot, that's all. And I think he's getting impatient, Severus I mean…" Lisa smiled apologetically. She had seen Snape get up and leave the room.

"So we'd better get going. Thank you very much for your time, Professor Anguin, it was really interesting."

"Thank you for coming. Will Mr Snape be at the ball tonight?"

"Oh, yes, he will. And he asked me to accompany him."

"You? But you are… " The witch stopped, lightly pink in the face.

"A Muggle, yes," Lisa said, smiling pleasantly.

Professor Anguin answering smile looked somewhat strained.

"Excellent. Well, see you then."

Nathan was reluctant to leave, he had wanted to show his mother the store cupboards next door, but she put a hand on his shoulder and steered him out of the room. The corridor outside was deserted, the elderly couple had already left; it was late afternoon and most visitors had completed their tour of the classrooms and were enjoying tea and cake on the sunny lawns outside. Severus was leaning against the wall at the far end of the corridor, arms crossed in front of his chest, head tilted back; he was staring at the ceiling. When he heard them he pushed himself away from the roughly hewn stones.

"Are you alright?" Lisa asked, frowning, her anger about his behaviour forgotten, as she took in his pale and haggard face.

He answered with a deep breath.

"Yes, I'm fine."

" Which means you aren't. What is it, Severus?"

"Nothing. Oh, alright, don't look at me like that. I am fine. It's just… in there… I couldn't… it suddenly all came back to me, overwhelmed me… I couldn't help it…"

"Was that the reason for your behaviour?"

He raked his hair back with his hands.

"It just came over me, I suppose, I couldn't stop myself. I lost it completely. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let myself be overcome by the ambience. Professor Anguin will…"

"… probably think you haven't changed at all. Once a sarcastic bastard, always a sarcastic bastard."

He shrugged, his features hovering between a resigned smile and a grimace.

"Well, so I've lived up to my reputation, haven't I?"

He ran a hand over his face, shaking his head.

"Nathan, listen, I'm sorry. I'm sure Professor Anguin is an excellent teacher."

"It's OK, Severus."

Nathan fidgeted, embarrassed by the emotional confession of his usually so stoic friend.

Snape sighed.

"It's been a long day. I think I need some rest before the ball tonight."

"I could do with a nice cup of tea, too. Why don't we go to that tent outside…"

"No, Lisa, I didn't mean tea. You and Nathan can go to that tent, I'll go upstairs and get some rest."

"Are you sure you want to be alone now?"

"Quite sure."

"Can you manage?"

He snorted impatiently, and without another word he turned in the direction of the stairs.

Lisa watched him until he had climbed the first flight of stairs, then she looked at Nathan.

"OK, son, let's find some tea."

"But, mum, you haven't seen the green houses yet…"

"Nat, have mercy! I've seen the grounds and Hagrid's cabin, we've walked around the edge of the what must have been the entire Forbidden Forest, we've watched a Quidditch match and you've given us the tour of the school buildings, leading us up and down hundreds of stairs! I'm knackered and I want my cup of tea now. After that I have to get ready for the dinner tonight. After all, as far as I understand, I will be the only Muggle present, so I'd better make a good impression, look nice and don't fall asleep over my soup. Come on, Nathan McGregor, tea it is!"

Half an hour later Lisa was on her way to her room, feeling miraculously revived after what she was convinced had been two cups of the best tea she had tasted in all her life plus a selection of delicious little cakes. She had said good-bye to her son for the day because only seven year students were allowed to join the war veterans, celebrities and Ministry officials for the dinner and the ball.

Severus and she had been given two separate rooms; however, they were adjoining rooms and boasted a connecting door which wasn't locked, a fact which had caused Severus to chuckle and mutter something incomprehensible under his breath. Very softly Lisa opened it and tiptoed inside Severus' room. He was stretched out on the bed, fully clothed, he had only kicked off his shoes. His eyes were closed, he was breathing deeply and evenly. Fast asleep.

She crept closer, watching him. She liked his face when he was sleeping, when it was relaxed, the harsh lines softened. Resisting the urge to kiss him, she went back to her own room to take a bath before dressing for the ball.

When she returned, wearing a bathrobe, her hair wrapped in a towel, he was still in the same position, but when she came closer, his nose twitched.

"Nasturtium," he said, his eyes still closed.

"Bless you!" she replied.

He smiled, opening his eyes, rolling over and sitting up.

"Nasturtium. Monk's cress. Indian cress. Tropaeolum majus. It's a very useful and versatile herb. I can't remember smelling it on you before. Have you bought a new shower gel or shampoo?"

Lisa couldn't help bursting out laughing.

"You are incredible. I used the bottle I found in the bathroom. There was no label on it, but it seemed nice. Do you think it was made with magic? Like a potion?"

Her hand went to her cheek as if to check that nothing was wrong with her skin.

"Do you think it was made here in Hogwarts? By students? By Professor Anguin herself?"

He got up and wrapped her in his arms.

"Don't worry. Whoever made it, with or without magic, it's absolutely harmless and it smells good."

"You think I'm stupid, don't you?" she asked, her cheek against his chest, "because I still have reservations about magic."

He drew back, holding her at arm's length. His face was serious.

"No, Lisa, I don't think you're stupid. Actually, in my opinion your attitude concerning magic is a very wise one, except that sometimes it may be a little inconvenient."

Kissing her forehead he looked at his watch.

"Time for me to take a bath, too, I think."


	27. Chapter 27

_Again thank you to all of you who are still with me and who keep writing reviews, although I don't always get round to answering them. I'm really sorry and just want to say that I appreciate your feedback very, very much. Thanks a lot._

_And now:_

_The usual disclaimers apply._

**Chapter 27**

They were walking down the corridor, heading for the marble staircase, their brisk steps defined by the sharp taps of their heels on the stone floor. Outside the last golden rays of the setting sun illuminated the mountain tops, crisscrossing the corridor with dazzling beams of light broken by the mullioned windows of the upper castle stories.

They walked in silence, their arms linked. Severus Snape was acutely aware of his partner's tension, it matched his own. Months ago, when the invitation had arrived, she had been really enthusiastic about accompanying him to the ball, curious about what wizarding celebrities would be like; the closer the day had come, however, the more nervous she had become. And now he knew she was quivering with nervousness while trying to appear calm and in control, pretending to look forward to meeting the crème de la crème of the British wizarding community face to face, armed with a red evening dress, high heels and a layer of make-up. Serves her right, the spiteful part of his mind sneered. He had not wanted to come, only after her constant, nagging remarks of how nice such an anniversary reunion would be, how interesting, and what a shame to miss it, had he relented and sent his confirmation.

And now he was here, at Hogwarts, attempting, after a long day's confrontation with familiar places and faces, to keep his apprehension of the final, culminating event at bay. In a few minutes he would meet the people who once had condemned him as a murderer and a traitor, most of whom probably still considered him a murderer and a traitor and would have to hide their dislike with a farce of politeness and small talk. Disgusting. Why, in Merlin's name, had he agreed to come? Instinctively he straightened his back, sucking in his stomach. He remembered Lisa's open admiration when she had seen him in his dress robes. Well, yes, thanks to Lucius Malfoy's advice he had invested in excellent quality when he'd had them made more than twenty years ago. And they still looked good, although he had noticed a slight tightness at the waist of the trousers. Lisa's cooking? Middle age? He probably should cut back on starchy foods from now on. Anyway, his dress robes were this armour of choice for tonight. If Lisa's reaction ('wow! You look amazing. So elegant and imposing, this is even more impressing than your ordinary robes… Dress robes! I can't believe that you have hiding these in your wardrobe all the time.') was anything to go by, they would serve their purpose perfectly.

They reached the top of the staircase and stopped. Soft music, laughter and conversation drifted up from the entrance hall. They looked at each other, their smiles meeting; quick, defiant smiles, feigning a confidence neither of them felt. Well, Snape thought, they would survive the evening. Somehow. Like he had survived on various occasions many times before. Surviving had become something like a habit. And he knew Lisa was tough, he was familiar with her can-do-attitude when push came to shove. Oh yes, they would survive. Each in their own right – and they would be there for each other.

Instinctively he pulled her a bit closer and felt a little squeeze on his arm in turn. They started to go down the stairs and caught a glimpse of themselves in an ancient, half-blind mirror on the first landing. Contrast personified, was what came to his mind: His robes black, elegantly cut, but still emitting an aura of austerity, her dress red, soft, shimmering fabric, bare shoulders, tiny waist, the whole attire expressing pure enjoyment of life. The same could be said about their hair: His was black, lank, lifeless and hers honey-coloured, thick and full of life. He was tall and gangly, her head barely reached his shoulder… Contrasts, opposites and yet, somehow, they seemed to… well, yes, there was no denying… they seemed to match, to be made for each other.

Carefully composing his features into the expressionless mask he had often worn so well, he guided Lisa down the last few steps and towards the Great Hall, where a queue of guests was waiting to shake hands with the receiving line consisting of Shacklebolt and Minerva.

Handshakes, polite, murmured greetings. Warm; welcoming smiles. Were they genuine? Hard to tell. Neither Shacklebolt nor Minerva allowed others to read their thoughts. Nevertheless, as he noticed with a satisfied little smirk, they weren't able to completely hide their astonishment at seeing Lisa at his side.

"Flying trays!" Lisa gave a little gasp of surprise as one of the round wooden objects zoomed up to them, hovering at their elbows, waiting for them to pick up their drinks. As soon as they had taken the glasses it floated away again.

"No Dutch courage for you tonight?" Severus quirked an eyebrow at Lisa's choice of orange juice.

Lisa just smiled, shaking her head. "Magic can be useful", she added quickly, commenting the trays. Then she took a sip of her juice, looking around. In her role as the consultant's wife she had been to official functions in the Muggle world and this one didn't look much different – apart from the flying trays and the peculiar style of evening wear some of the guests sported. There was soft easy-listening music playing as a backdrop for the sound of laughter and polite conversation, people were standing in small circles or walking around, greeting friends.

The Great Hall was lavishly decorated in the colours of all the four Hogwarts Houses. The usual school time furniture had been replaced by round tables seating ten. Hundreds of candles illuminated the room, floating in mid-air under a ceiling which mirrored the darkening evening sky outside with the silvery disk of an almost full moon and the golden twinkling of the first stars.

"Isn't it a lovely party? Hello, Professor Snape."

A young, fair haired woman with slightly protuberant eyes and a vague smile, an older man – her father, judging by their resemblance – in tow, had bumped into Severus.

"Isn't it good to meet all those wonderful people again? I really missed them."

She spread her arms, beaming at the world in general.

"Miss Lovegood…" Severus said stiffly.

"Oh, how nice, you remember my name. And this is your wife?"

The pale blue eyes rested on Lisa.

"No…" Lisa and Severus said in unison.

"… we're … friends", Lisa finished.

"Oh, but you should marry him, you know," the incredible young woman said happily, "he's a good man."

"Thank you, Miss Lovegood. I'm sure, Mrs McGregor will take your advice into consideration," Severus replied dryly, while Lisa was staring at the young woman, dumbstruck, blushing violently.

"You really look as if you were made for each other, you know. Don't they, Dad?"

Her father, who had watched his daughter's conversation with paternal pride, now nodded vaguely and started asking Severus something about what sounded like 'corrigible plums', while his daughter listened absent-mindedly, adding some remark now and then. Lisa's attention wandered to the other guests. She recognized members of the red-haired family from Diagon Alley apparition court and, in the centre of a large, cheerful bunch of people, the black haired young man with the glasses. Harry Potter. A little apart at the back of the room was another, smaller, very distinguished looking group gathered around a tall man with long, sleek, silver blonde hair, whose elegant black dress robes boasted intricate silver embroideries at the hem and the cuffs. So Mr Malfoy was here, too. A younger man next to him, the same pointed face, the same hair, but cut short and artfully dishevelled: His son?

A soft, melodious tinkling of bells called them to their seats. Lisa had been afraid that Severus' celebrity status would mean sharing a table with the Minister and other high-ranking officials of the wizarding community and was immensely relieved to find herself in the company of the older staff members of Hogwarts, Severus' former colleagues. At least she had heard about them and most of them knew about her and Nathan. Looking around the room Lisa saw that at the Minister's table there were the Malfoys and several other, equally important looking people, while the younger war heroes, Harry Potter and his friends were seated together at a different table. Obviously the person in charge of the seating plan had known what they were doing.

When everybody was seated, the Minister for Magic rose and touched his throat with his wand.

A speech, Lisa thought resignedly, glad that she had insisted on her afternoon tea.

"Ladies and gentleman, my fellow wizards, dear Muggle guests, dear friends. Today we have come together to celebrate the tenth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, the tenth anniversary of the glorious day when the Light defeated the Dark for good.

But before we start with the merrymaking, let us rise in remembrance of those innocent Muggles and wizards who suffered and died during the years of terror and those brave friends who fell in the final battle."

The scraping of chair legs on the stone floor, the rustling of garments and then there was silence. Lisa folded her hands in front of her stomach as if in prayer and stared at the table, counting the seconds. She knew nobody she could remember, but high up on her left muffled sniffles could be heard and then Hagrid took out a large spotted handkerchief and blew his nose. Finally the Minister started to speak again and everybody sat down.

"In the last ten years we have managed both to repair the damage to our institutions like Hogwarts Castle, Gringott's and the Ministry, and to rebuild the British wizarding community in general, thereby getting rid of useless traditions and introducing fresh ideas into our society. We can be proud of this progress. We have made a huge step forward and I want to thank you all for helping to achieve this."

Some people started cheering and applauding and soon everybody joined in. The Minister waited patiently, beaming happily, showing perfect white teeth.

"I am really glad that so many of you who took part in the destruction of the megaloaniac who called himself Lord Voldemort are here today. It is good to see that you are all well. I especially welcome Mr Harry Potter and his friends Mrs Hermione Granger-Weasley and Mr Ronald Weasley, who, as we all know, all played most decisive roles in our victory and have since completed their education and started promising careers with our wizarding institutions."

He paused again as the guests applauded enthusiastically and the three young people got up, grinning sheepishly.

"I also welcome all the teachers and all the brave students of Hogwarts who stayed behind to join the battle, especially Mr Neville Longbottom, who, as we all know, killed the monster snake Nagini, thereby destroying another of Tom Riddle's vile horcruxes."

Another round of applause and another young man got to his feet, grinning awkwardly and sitting down again quickly, even before the applause had died down.

"I also welcome the students' relatives, who came to join in the fighting. All of us remember the courage and fighting skills of Mrs Molly Weasley and of Mrs Augusta Longbottom."

Clapping her hands dutifully Lisa turned her head, trying to spot the two women.

"But most of all," the Minister cleared his throat, "most of all I welcome the man whose immense personal sacrifices enabled us to keep abreast with Tom Riddle's plots and plan his downfall. I'm glad that after his severe injuries and long illness he now is well enough to be able to join us today – ladies and gentlemen, a very warm welcome to Severus Snape."

There was an endless second of absolute silence and Lisa could sense her partner's petrified shock, then some tentative clapping started in several corners of the room, which soon developed into enthusiastic applause.

Snape's hands had grabbed the table. Minerva McGonagall was trying to catch his eye, grimacing and gesturing for him to stand and acknowledge the ovation. Slowly he pushed his chair back and stood up. His face didn't smile, it remained the expressionless mask, white and hard like marble, but when the applause finally abated and he sat down again, Lisa saw his hands tremble. Surreptitiously she put her hand on his thigh and at once his fingers gratefully accepted the offer.

The Minister continued with his speech, but Lisa didn't listen any more, her attention was focused on the man next to her, who was staring at his empty plate, holding on to her hand in a desperate grip, trying – as she was sure she assumed rightly – to come to grips with the fact that people had applauded him, that there had been no 'boohs' amidst the cheers. A quick glance across the table and her eyes met those of Professor McGonagall, who gave a small nod and a knowing smile.

A final round of applause and the Minister sat down again, having thanked the headmistress for hosting the function. Food suddenly appeared on the plates, the various glasses filled with wine, pumpkin juice and sparkling spring water. Lisa tried not to look too overcome with awe and raised her head to listen to Hagrid, who, although second year students weren't taught Care of Magical Creatures, knew Nathan, because the boy once had found an injured owl in the grounds and taken the bird to his cabin.

"Came knocking at my door on Saturday morning. Wasn't shy at all, said Severus had told him all about me. Clever little laddie, your son, Mrs McGregor."

Lisa smiled and replied something non-committal. On her right, Severus had recovered from his stupor and was talking to a stern-looking witch, who had introduced herself as Professor Vector. Nobody seemed to mind that Lisa wasn't a witch. Madam Pomphrey, the matron, shared some anecdotes from her time as an intern at a Muggle hospital.

"There was this wound which wouldn't heal. The doctors had tried everything, but nothing worked. I had my suspicions from the beginning and when no one was looking, I pulled out my wand and cast a spell. And I was right, the wound had been caused by Dark Magic, it was in the early years of You-Know-Who, you see. I was almost fully trained at that time and it was easy for me to cast the counter spell and – Hey presto! The problem was solved. They ran all sorts of tests to find out what had caused the healing, but couldn't get any plausible results. I mean, don't get me wrong, I think Muggle doctors do brilliant jobs, they just don't know about magic. So, tell me, Mrs Mcgregor, do you still have…"

Lisa relaxed, she was actually enjoying herself, and she could see that Severus felt the same. The three courses passed quickly and the plates vanished. A band had appeared on the stage at the far side of the hall, tuning their instruments. And then the dance started. The Minister for Magic waltzed away with Professor McGonagall, Hagrid asked Professor Vector and Professor Sprout was lead to the dance floor by Professor Slughorn, Madam Pomphrey by a tall, grey-haired wizard from the Minister's table . Finally only Lisa and Severus were left.

Lisa was tracing the pattern on the tablecloth with her finger, looking wistfully at the dance floor, which was quickly filling with people. Did Severus know how to dance? Was he able to? She had never really thought about the fact that 'dinner and dance' meant dancing.

Severus cleared his throat.

"Would you like to dance."

She stared at him.

"Dance?"

He smirked.

"Yes, that's what they're all doing over there."

"Yeah, right. Thanks for the information. What I meant is: Are you well enough to do it?"

"I think I can manage a slow waltz."

"Yes. Fine. So…"

Snape had got to his feet, offering her his arm. Still confused and not quite believing what she was doing, Lisa got up, too, and together they walked to the dance floor.

And he could dance. Holding her securely, he was leading her through the other dancers expertly. Soon she relaxed, and followed his movements and the rhythm of the music. There were curious and admiring glances from the surrounding couples. When the music stopped, they found themselves at the edge of the dance floor, next to Lucius Malfoy and a heavily made-up, very artificially blonde woman.

"Why, hello Severus, old friend. So the rumours are true, you've made a full recovery. Congratulations. And so charming a partner. Your neighbour, isn't it? Good evening, Madam."

Lisa answered with a strained little smile, moving a bit closer to Severus, who still had his arm around her waist and faced the blonde man calmly.

"Good evening, Lucius, you find me quite surprised. I didn't expect to see you here. If I remember correctly, your role in the war…"

"Times have changed, Severus. Who wants to live in the past? And basically it's all a matter of funds and connections."

He winked and laughed, obviously very pleased with himself. The woman next to him smiled sycophantically.

"Draco's here, too. I'm sure he will be delighted to meet you."

Mr Malfoy signalled across the room with his right hand, which was dominated by a heavy signet ring.

"Where's Narcissa?" Severus asked gruffly.

"At home. She's not well," Lucius replied.

An uncomfortable pause.

"I need a drink, darling," the woman said petulantly.

"Yes, my dear, of course. Here's Draco, well, I'll leave you to it, then. See you later."

The young man seemed genuinely delighted to meet Severus, and Lisa could see from the way Snape talked to him that the feeling was mutual. Draco Malfoy had just graduated from Harvard and was spending a short break with his parents before starting his first job with a US-based, global business communications firm. Snape approved of the decision to start a career far away from paternal connections and the world of magic. The young man also talked about taking his mother with him to the States, hoping that American Muggle specialists would find a cure for her depressions.

"This room seems to be full of Weasleys," Draco suddenly complained. "Are they still multiplying?" he asked in mock despair. "I've shaken hands with at least a dozen of them and there's always another one I haven't met so far. Look, this time it's the paterfamilias himself, with Harry Potter in tow. They appear to be aiming for you, Severus."

"I don't think so," Severus replied grimly. "I need some fresh air. Excuse me, Draco."

Taking Lisa by the hand Snape pushed his way through the crowd into the entrance hall, through the open front doors and into the grounds. He didn't slow down until they were quite a distance from the castle, well past the smokers, who were gathered around two large metal ash trays in a sheltered corner, and other fresh air seekers on the lawns.

"Is there anything wrong with Mr Weasley and Harry Potter," Lisa asked, sighing with relief when they were sitting down on a bench near the lake. Her feet were definitely not cut out for high heels.

"No, there's isn't. I just don't want to meet them. I've had enough of all this 'Oh, Severus, you are well again, how nice' stuff. I'm glad I've spoken to Draco, though. And I'm glad that things turned out well for him. I always feared that he would follow in his father's footsteps."

Lisa sighed.

"I loved the dance, Severus. You are a very good dancer."

"Thank you. May I return the compliment, Madam? Actually, it is down to Lucius that I learned to dance. He organised many festivities at Malfoy Manor in the old days and if you wanted to be invited you had to live up to his standards. I was ambitious and learned quickly, desperate to bridge the gap between Spinner's End and Malfoy Manor."

He laughed depreciatingly.

"Lucius always said women were falling for men who could dance, but somehow this didn't work out for me."

Another laugh.

"I'd never have thought that one day I would dance with a woman who had conceived some affection for me when I was barely able to walk…."

She snuggled closer to him and he put an arm around her shoulder. For several minutes they sat in silence, admiring the moonlight reflected in the lake.

"I love you, Severus, not because you can dance well or because you look good in your dress robes, but because you are … you, because you are your moody, sarcastic, intelligent, witty, honest, faithful, honourable self."

"I… well… thanks," he replied thickly, staring straight ahead.

"I need to tell you something…"

"Yes?" There was a hint of apprehension in his voice.

"It's nothing bad, really, although it may turn out to be a bit inconvenient. Actually, it's… well… most people would call it good news."

"Well?"

"I'm pregnant."

"Pregnant? You mean… pregnant! Merlin, Lisa, are you saying that I… that we…"

"… have made a baby, yes, that's the gist."

He had turned and was facing her, his face bluish-white in the moonlight, his eyes glittering like polished jet.

"How far along are you?"

"Eight weeks."

"So you could still…"

"What?"

"Do something…"

"Have an abortion?"

He shrugged, swallowing hard.

"Are you mad? I want this baby!"

"You said it would be inconvenient."

"Well, yes, but nothing you and I can't cope with."

"You and I," he repeated, sitting back again, looking out over the lake.

"You don't have to marry me, Severus," she said softly.

He continued staring at the black surface of the lake.

"With my history of marriage I'm not too keen on repeating the…."

"And if I wanted to marry you, Lisa," he interrupted her gently, turning towards her again.

"If you wanted to… I think I … I wouldn't object. But you don't have to feel any obligations…"

"I don't. I love you."

"Oh. Yes. Right. Well, I wouldn't object. I love you…"

A loud bang punctuated Lisa's sentence, and a cascade of light appeared in the sky. The fireworks had started. Severus had jumped up at the first explosion and now Lisa followed him. He was waiting for her, standing with his back to the firework display, his face white and rigid against the multi-coloured, glittering light-show. Suddenly he moved forward, wrapping her in his arms, holding her close, burying his nose in her hair. She could feel him tremble and hugged him, too. They loved each other, they were going to have a baby – the most natural thing in the world. It was happening all the time, everywhere around the globe, it was a basic part of human nature. Except for him it wasn't. Loving and – even more – being loved had been hard for him to accept. That this love had created new life, that he was going to be a parent must seem like a miracle for him. Like magic, she thought wryly, hugging him closer.

They remained standing, oblivious of the splendid firework display, oblivious of the inevitable Handel music in the background, oblivious of the fact that they were clearly visible from the windows of the Great Hall, where most of the other guests had assembled to watch the show. Fortunately the majority had only eyes for the sky, but headmistress McGonagall, with the experienced teacher's habit of paying attention to every detail, noticed their silhouettes against the backdrop of dazzling lights. She frowned and squinted and thought she recognized the taller of the two figures. She took a deep breath. The elaborate pyrotechnical designs of Wealsey's wizarding Wheezes were forgotten. She smiled happily.


	28. Chapter 28

_The usual disclaimers apply._

**Chapter 28**

Leaning back in her chair, Professor McGonagall closed her eyes, taking deep breaths, willing her stiff shoulders to relax. Concentrating on the pleasant sensation of warm, smooth porcelain in her hands while gently blowing across the surface of the hot liquid and enjoying the olfactory joy of bergamot oil in her nostrils, she relished the anticipation of her drink's invigorating taste before taking the first sip from her tartan and thistle decorated china mug.

"Ah, tea," she exclaimed with a sigh of pleasure.

She would also have liked to kick off her shoes and put up her tired feet; however, this wasn't her private sitting-room, it was her office and one didn't let one's hair down while still on duty and under the scrutiny of all one's predecessors. Well, almost all one's predecessors; one of them was conspicuously absent from his frame. Anyway, there were plenty of duties to fulfill before she could allow herself to retire for the night. She had to make sure that lessons could start as usual the following day.

Taking another sip of her tea she sat up and with another sigh – a weary one this time – pulled a stack of parchments towards herself and reached for her quill.

"Administrative work is the most tedious of a headmaster's duties," said a voice behind her.

Professor McGonagall's hand jerked, causing her quill to produce a large blot of ink. Closing her eyes for a moment and pressing her lips into a firm line she put down her quill and turned in her chair.

"How nice to hear that you're back, Albus," she said, her glasses flashing angrily, her voice full of sarcasm. "You portrait has been empty for two days, where have you been?"

"Oh, here and there, there are plenty of paintings to visit, plenty of places and people to see in this castle." The white-haired wizard made a sweeping gesture, brushing his gilded frame with his wide, midnight-blue sleeve.

"Ah. Well, yes. Did you see him?" the witch inquired; she wasn't in the mood for roundabout approaches.

A strange expression passed the painted wizard's face, wiping out his smile, and he hesitated a moment before answering.

"Yes, I did. And Mrs McGregor, too. A most delightful woman, if you ask me."

"Did you speak to him?"

"Speak to him? Actually…,well, no, I didn't."

The headmistress frowned in surprise. Getting up and leaning against the edge of her desk, she faced the portrait.

"You didn't speak to him?" she asked incredulously. "But I thought that's what you intended to do."

"Well, I…" Dumbledore had taken off his spectacles and was polishing them with a large white handkerchief. He muttered something incomprehensible.

"Sorry?" Minerva McGonagall asked.

"On second thoughts I decided it would be better if I didn't intrude on him but stayed in the background, watching."

"You decided to stay in the background?" The witch laughed out loudly. "Well, Albus, that's a first. What, in Merlin's name, made you change your mind?"

"Well, I found it was just doing me fine seeing that he was well…"

"It… what?" Professor McGonagall leaned forward as if not believing her ears.

"Yes, you see, that was my main concern after all – his being well."

"His being well. Right."

The witch settled back and regarded her predecessor, who was still busy polishing his glasses and refused to meet her eyes, with a thoughtful frown. Then suddenly her eyes widened and her lips curled into a smile.

"He refused to speak to you," she stated conversationally.

The portrait continued working on his spectacles, holding them up against the light and giving them appraising glances every now and then, before finally placing them on his crooked nose again.

"Well?" the witch insisted.

"He refused to notice me," he admitted grudgingly.

"How do you know he refused to notice you? Perhaps he just didn't see you."

Albus Dumbledore snorted.

"There was no mistaking his not wanting see me. After the ball, when they returned to their rooms, I was waiting in the corridor in this oversized picture of the solitary tree. You remember it, it's a copy, the original is by a German artist, mostly blues and greens, gnarled tree in the foreground, mountains in the background. Rather incongruous, I think. Well, anyway, it's a very quiet and peaceful scene and I thought it would provide us with the necessary privacy for a bit of friendly conversation. He must have seen me, this part of the wall is next to a torch and therefore well-lit, and I waved my hand and saw him stiffen for a moment. But he just walked on, he didn't stop, he didn't acknowledge my presence in any way. Minerva, he simply ignored me!"

"I see."

"I tried it once more the next morning when they came back from breakfast, but again he only gave me the most fleeting of glares and closed the door. There are no paintings in the guest rooms."

Minerva suppressed a smile.

"No, there aren't. We thought it would be better to grant our guests privacy. Well, Albus, obviously he didn't want to talk to you. And I can't say I don't understand that he prefers to stay away from you. After all the hardship he's been through. But nevertheless, at least you saw him."

The portrait sighed.

"Yes, and he does look well. Happy. Content. When they came back after the dance he looked almost smug. And somewhat confused. And very much in love."

"And Mrs McGregor?"

"Tired. And very much in love, too."

"Yes, I think she really loves him. Meeting her was the best thing to happen to him. And her son, too."

She sighed reminiscently.

"Merlin, you should have seen him two years ago, when he suddenly appeared in that fireplace – emaciated, unkempt, barely able to walk – a lonely, bitter cripple. And now… did you know he could dance?"

"Dance?" The wizard leaned forward so quickly that his spectacles threatened to slide off his nose.

"Merlin's beard! Dance! I had no idea. But then he was good friends with the Malfoys and their balls were famous…"

"He danced yesterday. He's a very good dancer."

For a moment they remained silent, each lost in their thoughts. The painted wizard was stroking his long beard pensively.

"I think there is something going on," he remarked slowly. "The way they looked at each other. And I saw the boy return to the common room today after they had left and he seemed excited."

"Did he, now? Perhaps it was just the aftermath of an exciting weekend. It doesn't have to be of any significance."

"There is something going on," the old wizard insisted stubbornly, "even with my limited abilities I could feel it."

Professor McGonagall shrugged, reaching for her mug, taking another sip of her tea. She grimaced, it was cold. Her thoughts wandered back to the scene she had watched during the fireworks. Perhaps Dumbledore was right and there was something going on. Marriage? Had he proposed out there? No, choosing such a dramatic moment was very unlike Severus. The Severus she knew. Maybe he had changed? So… marriage? Well, why not. She wondered briefly if they would opt for a Muggle or a wizarding ceremony. Or… maybe… The headmistress frowned, trying to remember the dinner. Lisa McGregor had not touched the wine glass. She had stuck to water, sparkling spring water. Could it be? Again, why not? Severus was as good as new, and anyway, even with all his injuries, his ability to procreate had never been impaired… She played with the handle of her mug, smiling. Well, the headmistress of Hogwarts School would have to be informed about any changes in the family situations of her students.

"A penny for your thoughts," the wizard's voice intruded into her daydreams.

"Oh, no, Albus, my thoughts are not to be had for money," she replied, taking the phrase literally. She emptied her cup and pushed herself away from her desk, turning her back on the painting.

"Minerva…you'll tell me if you learn something, will you?" the wizard asked anxiously.

The headmistress let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Of course I will. Do I have a choice? It is impossible to keep anything from a nosy old codger like you."

The painting looked hurt. "I'm not nosy, Minerva, I just care."

Slowly the witch turned round again, her stern spectacles directed at her predecessor.

"Albus Dumbledore, you can go on caring, for all it's worth. I'm just glad that you are not able to meddle. Severus Snape has been under your thumb for almost two decades, his life determined by guilt and misery, and in the end he nearly died in the process. Now he has been offered the chance to start a new life, one that is really worth living and fortunately he grabbed this chance, and I swear I'll personally hex everyone who dares think of interfering with that into oblivion."

_The End_

_Ooookaaaaay, I know this comes as a surprise and a bit of disappointment to some of you who would have liked me to go on with this story and cover the next ten or so years of Lisa's and Severus' relationship, but, sorry, I think now is the time to stop. I'll leave everything else to your own imagination. ;) Have fun._

_Leliha_


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